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a ( 


Why don’t we work for . . 


Ethel 


. the Santa Claus Ship?’ said 
Blue” 


[See p. 35] 



The Ethel Morton Books 

ETHEL MORTON 

AND THE 

CHRISTMAS SHIP 


BY 

MABELL S. C. SMITH 



THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY 

NEW YORK 



Copyright, 1915, by 
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY 



/ 

/ 

MAR 27 1917 



©GI.A460037 
"VL/O I 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The United Service Club at Home . . 9 

II Dorothy’s Cottage 18 

III The Christmas Ship 26 

IV Financial Plans 35 

V Roger Goes Foraging 47 

VI In THE Smith Attic 57 

VII For A Traveller’s Kit 70 

VIII The Red Cross Nurse Sets Sail ... 85 

IX Planning the U. S. C. “Show” ... 90 

X The Eventful Evening .101 

XI “Sister Susie’s Sewing Shirts for Sol- 
diers” 115 

XII James Cuts Corners 129 

XIII Pasting 139 

XIV James’s Afternoon Party 151 

XV Prevention 163 

XVI For Santa Claus’s Pack 177 

XVII The Club Weaves, Stencils and Models 

Clay 194 

XVIII Ethel Blue Awaits a Cable .... 206 

XIX Leather and Brass 21 1 

XX The Ethels Cook to Keep 221 

XXI The Christmas Ship Sails .... 232 
XXII A Wedding and a Surprise .... 242 


ETHEL MORTON 
AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


CHAPTER I 

THE UNITED SERVICE CLUB AT HOME 

4 6yT’S up to Roger Morton to admit that there’s 

X real, true romance in the world after all,” de- 
cided Margaret Hancock as she sat on the Mortons’ 
porch one afternoon a few days after school had 
opened in the September following the summer 
when the Mortons and Hancocks had met for the 
first time at Chautauqua. James and Margaret had 
trolleyed over to see Roger and Helen from Glen 
Point, about three quarters of an hour’s ride from 
Rosemont where the Mortons lived. 

“Roger’s ready to admit it,” confessed that young 
man. “When you have an aunt drop right down 
on your door mat, so to speak, after your family has 
been hunting her for twenty years, and when you find 
that you’ve been knowing her daughter, your own 
cousin, pretty well for two months it does make the 
regular go-to-school life that you and I used to lead 
look quite prosy.” 

“How did she happen to lose touch so completely 
with her family?” 

“I told you how Grandfather Morton, her father, 
opposed her marrying Uncle Leonard Smith because 
9 


10 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

he was a musician. Well, she did marry him, and 
when they got into straits she was too proud to tell 
her father about it.” 

“I suppose Grandfather would have said, T told 
you so,’ ” suggested Helen. 

“And I believe it takes more courage than it’s 
worth to face a person who’s given to saying that,” 
concluded James. 

“Aunt Louise evidently thought it wasn’t worth 
while or else she didn’t have the courage and so she 
drifted away. Her mother was dead and she had 
no sisters and Father and Uncle Richard probably 
didn’t write very often.” 

“She thought nobody at home loved her, I sup- 
pose,” said Helen. “Father and Uncle Richard 
did love her tremendously, but they were just young 
fellows at the time and they didn’t realize what their 
not writing meant to her.” 

“Once in a while they heard of Uncle Leonard 
through the music papers,” went on Roger, “but after 
his health failed. Aunt Louise told us the other day, 
he couldn’t make concert appearances and of course 
a man merely playing in an orchestra isn’t big enough 
to command public attention.” 

“By the time that Grandfather Morton died about 
twelve years ago she was completely lost to the fam- 
ily,” Helen continued, “and she says she didn’t know 
of his death until five years after, when she came 
accidentally upon some mention of it in a local paper 
that she picked up somewhere.” 

“That was after Uncle Leonard’s death, but it 
seemed to her that she could not make herself known 
to her people without being disloyal to his memory,” 
Roger carried on the story. 


THE UNITED SERVICE CLUB ii 


“She probably thought that your father and uncle 
were just as much opposed to him as her father had 
been,” guessed Margaret. 

“As a matter of fact, they have been hunting 
hard for her through every clue that promised any 
result ever since Grandfather died because they 
wanted to give her her share of his property.” 

“He didn’t cut her off with a shilling, then?” 

“Grandfather seems to have had a change of heart, 
for he left her more than he did his sons. He said 
she needed it more.” 

“And it has been accumulating all this time.” 

“Seven years. That means a very pleasant in- 
crease for her and Dorothy.” 

“She must think rather sadly of the days when 
they suffered real privation for the lack of it,” said 
Helen. 

“Anyway, here they are now, with money in their 
pockets and an affectionate family all ready made for 
them and they are going to live here in Rosemont 
near us, and Dorothy is going to school with the 
Ethels, and I’m willing to admit that it comes nearer 
to being a romance than anything I ever heard of in 
real life,” and Roger nodded his head gleefully. 

“I’m glad she’s going to live here so we can see 
her once in a while,” said Margaret. “Mother and 
Sister and I all loved her at Chautauqua, she was so 
patient and gentle with the people she taught. And 
of course we all think Dorothy is a darling.” 

“The Ethels are crazy over her. They treat her 
as if she were some new belonging and they can 
hardly bear to have her out of their sight.” 

“It was Grandfather Emerson who said all sum- 
mer that she looked like the Ethels,” remarked 


12 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

Roger. “Her hair is fuzzy and her nose is puggy, 
but I didn’t see much other likeness.” 

“When she grows as fat as the Ethels I think she’ll 
look astonishingly like them. She’s thin and pale, 
now, poor little dud.” 

“I wish she could grow as plump as Della Wat- 
kins.” 

“I saw Tom Watkins yesterday,” said James. 

“What was a haughty New Yorker doing on the 
Jersey side of the Hudson?” 

“It seems he boards Cupid and his family at the 
Rosemont Kennels — ^you know they’re half way be- 
tween here and Glen Point. He was going to call 
on them.” 

“Dear Cupid!” laughed Margaret, recalling the 
bulldog’s alarming face which ill agreed with his 
mild name and general behavior. “Let’s go over 
to the Kennels and see him some day.” 

“His wife is named Psyche,” went on James, “and 
they have two pups named Amor and Amorette.” 

“I should think Cupid’s puppy would be the fun- 
niest little animal on earth,” roared Roger. “Never, 
never shall I forget the day old Cupe ran away with 
his market wagon,” and he kicked his legs with en- 
thusiasm. 

“Did Tom say anything about coming to see us?” 
asked Margaret. 

“He said he and Della were coming over on Satur- 
day afternoon and he inquired how far it was from 
Glen Point to Rosemont and whether they could 
make two calls in one afternoon.” 

“Not if he stays at either place as long as we’d 
like to have him,” said Roger. 

“Why don’t we have a meeting of the United 


THE UNITED SERVICE CLUB 


13 


Service Club on Saturday afternoon?” suggested 
Helen, “and then the Watkinses can come here and 
you two can come and we can all see each other and 
at the same time decide on what we are going to do 
this winter.” 

“Great head!” approved Roger. “Can you peo- 
ple be here?” 

“We can,” assented Margaret. 

“And we will.” James completed the sentence 
for her. 

“Here are the children. They’ve been asking 
when we were to have the first meeting, so I know 
they’ll be glad to give Saturday afternoon to it.” 

“The children” of Helen’s patronizing expression 
came rushing into the yard at the moment. Ethel 
Brown Morton, tall and rosy, her cheeks flushed 
with running, led the way; her cousin, Ethel Blue 
Morton, not quite so tall or quite so rosy, made a 
fair second, and their newly-found cousin, Dorothy 
Smith, brought up the rear, panting a trifle harder 
than the rest, but already looking plumper and stur- 
dier than she had during the summer at Chautau- 
qua. 

They greeted Margaret and James gladly, and 
sat down on the steps of the porch to engage in the 
conversation. 

“Hullo,” a voice came through the screen door. 
“I’m coming out.” 

“That must be my friend Dicky,” declared James. 
“Come on, old man,” and he arranged his knees in 
position to serve as a seat for the six-year-old who 
calmly sat himself down upon them. 

“How are you?” questioned James gravely. “All 
right?” 


14 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“Firtht rate,” replied Dicky briefly. “Have a 
thuck?” and he offered James the moist end of an 
all-day-sucker, withdrawing it from his own mouth 
for the purpose. 

“Thank you, Pm not eating candy to-day, sir,” 
responded James seriously. “Much obliged to you, 
all the same.” 

Dicky nodded his recognition of James’s thanks 
and resumed his occupation. 

“It keeps us still though we’re not pretty to look 
at as we do it,” commented Ethel Brown. 

“You’re talking about me,” asserted Dicky sud- 
denly, once more removing his sucker from his in- 
creasingly sticky lips and fixing an accusing eye upon 
his sister. 

“She was, Dicky, that’s true,” interposed Helen 
quickly, “but she loves you just as much as if she 
were talking about Roger.” 

Dicky regarded this as a compliment and subsided 
against James’s chest. 

“We’re going to try and get the Watkinses to 
come out next Saturday afternoon and the Hancocks 
will come over and we’ll have a meeting of the 
United Service,” explained Roger to the new ar- 
rivals. 

“Good enough!” approved Ethel Brown. 

“What are you going to do. Madam President?” 
inquired Ethel Blue, who felt a lively interest in any 
future plans because the Club was her idea. 

“We’ll all think of things between now and Sat- 
urday, and suggest them then.” 

“Tell the Watkinses when you write to them, 
Helen.” 

“I’m just boiling over with ideas for the Club 


THE UNITED SERVICE CLUB 15 

to put into execution some time or other,” announced 
Roger. 

“Big ones or little?” asked Dorothy. 

“Some of them are pretty big, but I have a feel- 
ing in my bones that they’ll go through.” 

“Good for old Roger’s bones!” commended 
James. “May we venture to ask what some of them 
are ?” 

“ ‘Nothing venture, nothing have,’ ” quoted 
Roger. “I’m merely saying now, however, that the 
biggest scheme is one that I told Grandfather Em- 
erson about the other day and he said he’d help by 
giving us the house for 'it.” 

“What should we do that would need a house?” 

“What do you mean — house?” 

Roger grinned delightedly at the commotion he 
had caused. 

“This plan I have is so big that we’ll have to get 
the grown-ups to help us, but we’ll do most of the 
carrying out ourselves in spite of that.” 

“I should think we would have to have their help 
if your plan calls for a house.” 

“You needn’t be sarcastic, young woman. This is 
a perfectly good scheme — Grandfather said so. He 
said it was so good that he was willing to back it 
and to help us by supplying the house we should 
need.” 

“Poor old Roger — gone clean crazy,” sighed 
James. 

“I almost think so,” agreed Helen. 

“Let me tell you something, you scoffers — ” 

“Tell on; that’s what we’re waiting for.” 

“Well, on the whole, I guess I won’t tell you a 
thing about it.” 


1 6 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“If you aren’t the very meanest boy I ever knew 
in my life,” decided Margaret whole-heartedly. 
“To work our curiosity all up this way and then not 
to tell us a thing.” 

“I didn’t get the encouragement that the plan de- 
served.” 

“Like all great inventors,” commented James. 

“They all come out on top at the end, I notice,” 
retorted Roger. “You just watch me about next 
April when the buds begin to swell.” 

“Heads begin to swell at any time of year, appar- 
ently.” 

“Especially bad cases begin in the autumn — about 
September.” 

“Oh, you wait, just wait,” threatened Roger. 
“When you haven’t an idea what to do to make the 
' Club really useful for another minute then you’ll re- 
call that I promised you a really big plan. Then — ” 

“If you aren’t going to tell us now I think we’d 
better talk about something that has some connec- 
tion with what we’re going to do in September in- 
stead of this April Fool thing of yours,” said Helen 
somewhat sharply. 

“Let’s not talk about it until Saturday,” begged 
Ethel Blue. “Then we can all put our minds on it.” 

“I rise to remark. Madam President,” continued 
James, “that I believe this Club has a great future 
before it if it does not get involved in wildcat 
schemes — ” 

“Now listen to that!” exclaimed Roger. “There 
speaks the canny Scot that was James’s great-grand- 
father. Cautious old Hancock! Now you really 
have got me riled. I vow to you, fellow-clubmen 
and -women that I won’t be the first to propose this 


THE UNITED SERVICE CLUB 17 

scheme again. You’ll have to come to me. And 
I’ll prophesy that you will come to me about the 
first of next April.” 

“Why April?” 

“Nothing to do with April Fool, I assure you. 
But about that time we shall have worked off all the 
ideas that we’ve cooked up to carry us through the 
winter and we’ll be glad to undertake a service that 
is a service — the real thing.” 

“We’re going to do the real thing all the time.” 
Ethel Blue defended her idea. “But I dare say 
we’ll want to do your thing, too.” 

“Grandfather’s recommendation doesn’t seem to 
count with you young know-it-alls.” 

“Grandfather’s recommendation is the only rea- 
son why our remarks weren’t more severe,” re- 
torted Ethel Brown. 

“Each of us must bring in a list next Saturday,” 
said Helen, as they all walked to the corner to see 
that the Hancocks took the car safely. 

“And I believe that every one will be a perfectly 
good plan,” said Roger magnanimously. 

“There won’t be one that will require a house to 
hold it anyway,” retorted Margaret. 


18 


CHAPTER II 
Dorothy’s cottage 

R OSEMONT and Glen Point were two New 
Jersey towns near enough to New York to 
permit business men to commute every day and far 
enough away from the big city to furnish plenty of 
air and space for the growing generation. It was 
the latter qualification that endeared them to the 
Morton and Hancock families, for there were no 
commuters in their households. Lieutenant Mor- 
ton, father of Roger and Helen and Ethel Brown 
and Dicky, was on his ship in the harbor of Vera 
Cruz. Captain Morton, his brother, father of 
Ethel Blue, had returned to Gen. Funston’s army 
after finding their sister, Mrs. Smith, at Chau- 
tauqua and convoying her with all the Mortons 
and Mrs. Morton’s father and mother, Mr. and 
Mrs. Emerson, back to Rosemont. His short fur- 
lough did not allow him to remain long enough to 
see his sister established in a house of her own, but 
it was understood that she was to hire a furnished 
house as near as possible to the Mortons’ and live in 
it until she made up her mind where she wanted to 
build. 

“Dorothy and I have wandered about the United 
States so long,” she said plaintively, “that we are 
thankful to settle down in a town and a house that 
we can call our own, and we shall be even happier 

i8 


DOROTHY’S COTTAGE 


19 


when we have a bungalow actually belonging to us.” 

At present they were still staying with the Mor- 
tons, but the Morton family was so large that two 
visitors crowded them uncomfortably and Mrs. 
Smith felt that she must not trespass upon her sis- 
ter-in-law’s hospitality longer than was absolutely 
necessary. 

“I think the white cottage just around the corner 
will be the one that we will take,” she said to Dor- 
othy. “Come with me there again this afternoon 
for one more look at it, and then we’ll make up our 
minds.” 

So they went to the white cottage and carefully 
studied its merits. 

“The principal good thing about it is that it is 
near Aunt Marion’s,” declared Dorothy. 

“I think so, too. And it is near school and church 
and the butcher’s and baker’s and candlestick- 
maker’s. We shan’t have very far to walk for any- 
thing.” 

“Oh, Mother, it doesn’t seem possible that this 
can be us really living and not just perching around, 
and having enough money and enough to eat and 
nothing to worry about.” 

Mrs. Smith threw her arm about Dorothy’s shoul- 
der. 

“The thing for you to do to show your gratitude 
is to grow well and strong just as fast as you can. 
I want to see you as rosy as the Ethels.” 

“They run me around so much that I think they’ll 
do it for me before very long.” 

“They have a start, though, so you’ll have to do 
all the vigorous things that they do and others 
too.” 


20 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“You mean exercises at home?” 

“Every morning when you get up you should do 
what a cat does when he wakes from a nap.” 

“I know — he stretches himself way out to the tips 
of his claws.” 

“And shakes himself all over. What do you sup- 
pose he’s doing it for?” 

“To stretch his muscles, I should think.” 

“And to loosen his skin and make himself gener- 
ally flexible. Have you ever seen a sick cat? His 
coat looks dull and dry and woolly Instead of silky, 
and when you feel of him his skin doesn’t slip over 
his bones easily. It wouldn’t be very complimentary 
to ourselves to say that you and I are sick cats just 
now, but it wouldn’t be far from the truth.” 

“I don’t much like the sound of It,” laughed Dor- 
othy. “What can we invalid pussies do to get 
well?” 

“A few simple exercises we ought to take every 
morning when we first get out of bed. We ought 
to stand first on one foot and then on the other, and 
swing vigorously the foot that is off the floor.” 

“That’s easy.” 

“Then if we stretch our arms upward as high as 
we can, first one and then the other and then both, 
and then put our hands on the ribs of each side and 
stretch and lift them we shall have limbered up the 
lower and the upper parts of ourselves pretty thor- 
oughly.” 

“I learned a good exercise for the waist muscles 
at the Girls’ Club last summer. You sit down and 
roll the body at the waist line in all directions. You 
can do it standing, too ; that brings In some different 
muscles.” 


DOROTHY’S COTTAGE 


21 


‘‘We’ll do that. These few exercises will wake 
up every part of the body.” 

“We ought to do them with the windows open.” 

“When you first wake up after having the windows 
wide open all night you don’t realize the cold in 
your room. It isn’t until you have been to a warmer 
room that you notice the cold in your bedroom. So 
the best time to take these exercises is just the min- 
ute you hop out of bed. Stand in front of the open 
window and take deep breaths of air way down into 
the very lower tips of your lungs so that every tiny 
cell will be puffed out with good, fresh oxygen.” 

“It will take a lot of time to do all those exer- 
cises.” 

“Five minutes every morning will be enough if we 
do them vigorously. And you mustn’t forget that 
your aim is to catch up with the Ethels.” 

“And then to beat them. I’ll do it.” 

They went slowly through the cottage and planned 
the purpose to which they would put each room. It 
was simply furnished, but all the necessities were 
there. 

“It’s more fun this way than if there were a lot of 
furniture,” said Dorothy, “because we can get what 
is lacking to suit ourselves.” 

“All the time that we are here we can be making 
plans for building our own little house.” 

“I can hardly wait to have it.” 

They hugged each other in their happiness and the 
tears were not far from the eyelids of both of them, 
for Mrs. Smith had not known anything but the ac- 
tual necessities of living for many years and Dorothy 
had never known many comforts that had been every 
day matters and not luxuries to her mother’s youth. 


22 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


So Mrs. Smith hired the white cottage and she and 
Dorothy moved In at once. A cousin of Mary, 
Mrs. Morton’s old servant, who had been Dicky’s 
nurse, came to work for them, and by the time of 
the first meeting of the United Service Club Dorothy 
felt so settled In her new home that she wanted to 
have the meeting In the living-room or the big attic 
just to see how It felt to be entertaining people in 
her own house. 

“I think I wouldn’t suggest it this time,” Mrs. 
Smith warned her. “Helen is the president, you 
see, and It seems more suitable for the first meeting 
to be held at her house. Ask if you mayn’t have 
the next one here. How often are you going to 
meet?” 

“I hope It will be once a week, and so does Ethel 
Blue. She thinks there’s plenty of occupation to 
keep a service club busy all the time.” 

At noon the sun disappeared and the Rosemont 
members of the U. S. C. began to have doubts as to 
whether the Hancocks and Watkinses would appear. 

“Even if it rains hard I think James and Mar- 
garet will come,” said Helen. “The trolley brings 
them almost from their door to ours; but I don’t feel 
so sure about the Watkinses.” 

“It doesn’t take but ten minutes longer for them 
to come out from New York than for the Hancocks 
to come over from Glen Point.” 

“But they have to cross the ferry and take the 
train and It seems more of an undertaking than just 
to hop into a street car.” 

“It’s getting so dark and gloomy — what do you 
say if you Ethels make some candy to enliven the 
afternoon?” 


DOROTHY’S COTTAGE 


23 


“Is there time before they come?” 

“Just about. Try Vinegar Candy this time. If 
you leave half of it unstirred and stir the other half 
it will be as good as two kinds, you know.” 

So the Ethels went off into a pantry back of the 
kitchen, where Mrs. Morton had had a small gas 
stove installed so that the children might cook to* 
their hearts’ content without interfering with the oc- 
cupants of the kitchen. 

“There’s nothing that upsets people who are try- 
ing to make a house run smoothly and to do its work 
promptly and well as to have children come into the 
kitchen and use the stove when it is needed for other 
purposes, and get in the way and leave their cook- 
ing apparatus around and their pots and pans un- 
cleaned,” declared Mrs. Morton. 

So the Ethels and Helen, and Roger, too, for he 
was a capital cook and was in great demand when- 
ever the boys went on camping trips, all contributed 
from their allowances to buy a simple equipment for 
this tiny kitchen which they called their own. Mrs. 
Morton paid for the stove, but the saucepans and 
baking tins, the flour and sugar and eggs, the flavor- 
ing extracts and the seasonings were all supplied 
by the children, and it was understood that when a 
cooking fit seized them they must think out before- 
hand what they were going to want and provide 
themselves with it and not call on the cook or Mary 
to help them out of an emergency caused by their 
own thoughtlessness. Mrs. Morton was sure that 
her reputation as a sensible mother who did not let 
the children over-run the kitchen at times when they 
were decidedly in the way was one of the chief rea- 
sons why her servants stayed with her so long. 


24 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

So now Ethel Brown said to Ethel Blue, “Have 
we got all the materials we need for Vinegar 
Candy?” and Ethel Blue seized the cook book and 
read the receipt. 

“Mix together three cupfuls of sugar, half a cup- 
ful of vinegar, half a cupful of water. When it 
comes to a boil stir in one teaspoonful of soda.” 

“We’ve got sugar and soda and water,” an- 
nounced Ethel Brown after investigating the shelves 
of the tiny storeroom, “but there isn’t any vinegar. 
I do hate to go out in this rain,” for the dark sky 
was making good its threat. 

“I’ll get it for you. Give me your jug,” said 
Roger, swinging into his raincoat. “I’ll be back in 
half a jiff,” and he dashed off into the downpour, 
shaking his head like a Newfoundland dog, and 
spattering the drops as he ran. 

He was back before the Ethels had their pans 
buttered and the water and sugar measured, so 
briskly had he galloped. It was only a few minutes 
more before the candy stiffened when a little was 
dropped into a cup of cold water. 

“Now we’ll pour half of it into one of the pans,” 
directed Ethel Brown, “and then we’ll get Roger to 
beat the other half so it will be creamy.” 

Roger was entirely willing to lend his muscles to 
so good a cause and soon had the mass grained and 
white. 

“Good work; one boiling for two batches!” he 
declared. “That pleases my notions of scientific 
management.” 

When the door-bell rang for the first arrivals the 
whole thing was almost cold, and Mary, who was 


DOROTHY’S COTTAGE 


25 


always willing to help in an emergency, hastened the 
chilling process by popping the tins into the ice box. 

“They’re not warm enough any longer to melt the 
ice,” she decided, “so I’ll just hurry ’em up a bit.” 

After all the discussion about the city dwellers’ 
dislike of going into the suburbs it was the Watkinses 
who came first. 

“We’re ahead of the hour,” apologized Della. 
“We couldn’t time ourselves exactly for so long a 
distance.” 

“The Hancocks will come just on the dot, I’ve no 
doubt,” laughed Tom. “Old James is just that ac- 
curate person!” 

As the clock’s hand was on the appointed minute a 
whir at the bell announced Margaret and James, both 
dripping from their run from the corner. 

“Mrs. Morton’s compliments and she thought they 
had better drink this so they won’t get cold.” 

“Our compliments and thanks to Mrs. Morton,” 
returned Tom, his hand dramatically placed over a 
portion of his person which is said to be the gateway 
to a boy’s heart. 

When the cups had been emptied and the wafers 
consumed and the Ethels had taken away the tray 
with the remains of the feast and had brought back 
the two kinds of candy, carefully cut into squares 
and heaped in two of the pretty Japanese bowls 
which made a part of their private kitchen equipment, 
they all settled down in big chairs and on couches ex- 
cept Roger, who sat near the fire to stir it, and 
Helen, who established herself at one end of the 
table where she could see them all conveniently. 


CHAPTER III 

THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


HE meeting will come to order,” com- 



X manded Helen, her face bubbling with the 
conflict between her dignity and her desire to laugh 
at her dignity. 

“We haven’t any secretary, so there can’t be any 
minutes of the last meeting.” 

Helen glanced sidewise at James, for she was talk- 
ing about something she never had had occasion to 
mention in all her life before and she wondered if 
he were being properly impressed with the ease with 
which she spoke of the non-existent minutes. 

James responded to her look with an expression 
of surprise so comical that Helen almost burst into 
laughter most unsuitable for the presiding officer of 
so distinguished a gathering. 

“Oughtn’t we to have a secretary?” asked Tom. 
“If we’re going to have a really shipshape club this 
winter it seems to me we ought to have some record 
of what we do.” 

“And there may be letters to write,” urged Roger, 
“and who’d do them?” 

“Not old Roger, I’ll bet!” cried James in humor- 
ous scorn. 

“I don’t notice that anybody is addressing the 
chair,” remarked Helen sternly, and James flushed, 
for he had been the president’s instructor in parlia- 


THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


27 


mentary law at the meeting when the Club was or- 
ganized, and he did not relish being caught in a 
mistake. 

“Excuse me, Madam President,” he apologized. 

“I don’t see any especial need for a secretary, Miss 
President,” said Margaret, “but can’t we tell better 
when we’re a little farther along and know what 
we’re going to do ?” 

“Perhaps so,” agreed Helen. “There isn’t any 
treasurer’s report for the same reason that there 
isn’t any secretary’s,” she continued. 

“Just to cut off another discussion I’d like to re- 
peat my remark,” said Margaret. 

“If we become multi-millionaires later on we can 
appoint a treasurer then,” said Della, her round 
face unusually grave. 

“Instead of a secretary’s report it seems to me it 
would be interesting to remember what the Club 
did last summer to live up to its name,” suggested 
Tom. “You know Della and I weren’t elected un- 
til after you’d been going some time, and I’m not 
sure that I know everything that happened.” 

The Mortons and Dorothy and the Hancocks 
looked around at each other rather vaguely, and no 
one seemed in a hurry to begin. 

“It looks to me as if a secretary is almost a neces- 
sity,” grinned Tom, “if nobody remembers anything 
you did!” . 

“There were lots of little things that don’t seem 
to count when you look back on them,” began Ethel 
Blue. 

“We did some things as a Club,” said Roger, 
“and we can tell Watkins about those without em- 
barrassing anybody.” 


28 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“Our first effort was on Old First Night,” said 
Margaret thoughtfully. “Don’t you remember we 
went outside the gate and picked flowers and deco- 
rated the stage?” 

“In the evening James and Roger passed the bas- 
kets to collect the offering in the Amphitheatre,” 
Ethel Blue said. “And then we all did things that 
helped along in the Pageant and on Recognition 
Day.” 

“I don’t think those really counted for much as 
service,” said Helen, “because they were all of them 
mighty good fun.” 

“I think we ought to do whatever will help some- 
body, whether we like it or not,’’ declared Ethel 
Blue, “but I don’t see why we shouldn’t hunt up 
pleasant things to do.” 

“What are we going to do, anyway?” asked Della. 
“Has anybody any ideas? Oh, please excuse me, 
Helen — Miss President — ^perhaps it wasn’t time to 
ask that question.” 

“I was just about to ask for suggestions,” said 
Helen with dignity. “Has any one come across any- 
thing that we can do here in Rosemont or in Glen 
Point or in New York? Anything that will be an 
appropriate beginning for the United Service Club? 
We want to do something that would be suitable 
for the children of our father and uncle who are 
serving in the Army and Navy trying to keep peace 
in Mexico, and of a man like Doctor Hancock, who 
is serving his fellowmen in the slums every day, and 
of a clergyman who is helping people to do right all 
the time.” 

Helen flushed over this long speech. 

“Rosemont, Glen Point, and New York — a wide 


THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


29 

field,” said Tom dryly. “It seems as if we might 
find something without much trouble.” 

“I thought of the orphanage in Glen Point,” said 
Margaret. 

“What is there for us to do for the kids there 
that the grown people don’t do?” asked Roger. 

“The grown people contribute clothes and food 
and all the necessaries, but sometimes when I’ve 
been there it seemed as if the children didn’t have 
much of any of the little nothings that boys and girls 
in their own homes have. It seemed to me that 
perhaps we could make a lot of things that weren’t 
especially useful but were just pretty; things that 
we’d like to have ourselves.” 

“I know just how they feel, I believe,” said Mar- 
garet. “One of my aunts thinks that perfectly plain 
clothes are all that are necessary and she won’t let 
my cousins have any ruffles or bows. It makes them 
just miserable. They’re crazy for something that 
‘isn’t useful.’ ” 

“How would it do to get together a lot of things 
for Christmas for the orphans? We might offer to 
trim a tree for them. Or to give each one of them 
a foolish present or a pretty one to offset the solid 
things the grown-ups will give.” 

“When I was a kid,” observed James, “I used to 
consider it a mean fraud if I had clothing worked 
off on me as Christmas presents. My parents had 
to clothe me anyway; why should they put those ne- 
cessities among my Christmas gifts which were sup- 
posed to be extras !” 

“There you are again; what people want in this 
world of pain and woe, ye-ho, he-ho,” chanted 
Roger, “is the things they can go without.” 


30 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“Has any one thought of anybody else we can 
benefit?” questioned Helen. “We might as well 
have all the recommendations we can.” 

“There’s an old couple down by the bridge on 
South Street,” said Roger. “I’ve often noticed 
them. They’re all bent up and about a thousand 
years old. We might keep an eye on them.” 

“I know about them,” contributed Ethel Brown. 
“I asked about them. They have a son who takes 
care of them. He gives them money every week, 
so they aren’t suffering, but they both have the rheu- 
matism frightfully so they can’t go out much and I 
shouldn’t wonder if they’d like a party some time, 
right in their own house. If we could go there and 
sing them some songs and Dicky could speak his 
piece about the cat and we could do some shadow 
pantomimes on a sheet and then have a spread, I 
believe they’d have as good a time as if they’d been 
to the movies.” 

“We’ll do it.” Tom slapped his leg. “I’ll sing 
’em a solo myself.” 

Groans rose from James and Roger. 

“Poor old things! What have you got against 
them?” 

“Oh, well. If you’re jealous of my voice — of 
course I wouldn’t for the world arouse any hard 
feelings. Madam President. I withdraw my offer. 
But mark ye, callow youths,” he went on dramati- 
cally, “the day will come when I’m a Caruso and 
you’ll be sorry to have to remember that you did 
your best to discourage a genius that would not be 
discouraged!” 

“The meeting will come to order.” Helen 


THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


31 


rapped for quiet, for the entire room was rocking to 
and fro over Tom’s praise of one of the hoarsest 
voices ever given to boy or man. 

“We’ll give the old people a good show, even if 
Tom does back out,” cried Roger. “I wish we had 
a secretary to put down these suggestions. I’m 
afraid we’ll forget them.” 

“So am I,” agreed Helen. “Let’s vote for a sec- 
retary. Roger, pass around some paper and pen- 
cils and let’s ballot.” 

Roger did as he was bid, and Ethel Brown and 
Della collected the ballots and acted as tellers. 

“The tellers will declare the vote,” announced 
Helen, who had been conferring with James while 
the balloting was going on, and had learned the 
proper parliamentary move. Margaret had coached 
Ethel Brown so that she made her report in proper 
style. 

“Total number of votes cast, eight; necessary to 
a choice, five. Margaret has one, Dorothy has one, 
Roger has two, Ethel Brown has one, Ethel Blue 
has three. Nobody has enough.” 

“Have we got to vote over again?” Helen asked 
of James. 

“I move you. Madam President, that we consider 
the person receiving the highest number of votes as 
the person elected and that we make the election 
unanimous.” 

“Is the motion seconded?” 

Cries of “Yes,” “I second it,” “So do I,” came 
from all over the room and included a call from 
Ethel Blue. Roger pealed with laughter. 

“Ethel Blue means to get there,” he shouted. 


32 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“I do? What have I done?” demanded Ethel 
Blue, so embarrassed at this attack that the tears 
stood in her eyes. 

“Why, you’re the person who’s receiving a unani- 
mous election,” returned Roger, between gasps. 
“You’ve made it unanimous, yourself, all right.” 

Poor Ethel Blue leaned back in her chair without 
saying a word. 

“Roger, you’re too mean,” cried Helen. “Don’t 
you mind a word he says, Ethel Blue. It’s very hard 
to follow votes and it isn’t at all surprising that you 
didn’t understand.” 

“What does it mean?” 

“It means that you’re elected secretary.” 

“But there weren’t enough votes.” 

“You had three and Roger had two, and nobody 
else had more than one. When one candidate has 
more than the rest he may be considered as elected, 
even if he didn’t get the right number of votes — ^that 
is, if everybody agrees to it.” 

“And you agreed to it,” chuckled Roger. 

“Stop, Roger. You’re our new secretary, Ethel 
Blue, and it’s very suitable that you should be, for 
the club was your idea and you ought to be an offi- 
cer. Roger, give Ethel Blue your pencil and the 
rest of that paper you had for the ballots. Come 
and sit next to me, Ethel.” 

Ethel Blue felt that honors were being thrust upon 
her much against her will, but she was afraid that 
she would make some other mistake if she objected, 
so she meekly took the pencil and paper from Roger 
and began to note down the proceedings. 

“We’ve had a suggestion from Glen Point and 
one from Rosemont — let’s hear from New York,” 


THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


33 


said the president. “Della — anything to say?’^ 

“Papa can suggest lots of people that we can help 
if we ask him,” said Della. “I didn’t ask him be- 
cause I thought that perhaps you’d have some pet 
charities out here where there aren’t so many help- 
ing hands as there are in New York.” 

“How about you, Tom?” 

“To tell you the truth,” responded Tom gravely^ 
“I didn’t think up anything to suggest this afternoon 
because my mind has been so full of the war that 
I can’t seem able to think about anything else.” 

Everybody grew serious at once. The war 
seemed very close to the Mortons, although it was a 
war across the sea, because they knew what it would 
mean to their father and uncle if ever our country 
should be involved in war. The thought of their 
own mental suffering and their anxiety if Captain 
and Lieutenant Morton should ever be sent to the 
front had given them a keen interest In what had 
been going on in Europe for six weeks. 

“I read the newspapers all the time,” went on 
Tom, “and I dare say I don’t gain much real infor- 
mation from them, but at least I’m having ground 
into my soul every day the hideous suffering that all 
this fighting is bringing upon the women and children. 
The men may die, but at least they can fight for 
their lives. The women and children have to sit 
down and wait for death or destruction to come their 
way.” 

“It’s too big a situation for us way off here to 
grasp,” said Roger slowly, “but there are people on 
the spot who are trying to give assistance, and if 
Americans could only get In touch with them It seems 
as if help might be handed along the way we handed 
19 


34 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

the water buckets last summer when the cottage was 
on fire.” 

“The Red Cross Is working in all the countries 
that are at war,” said Helen. “There’s an Amer- 
ican Red Cross and people are sending clothing and 
food to the New York branch and they are sending 
them on to Europe. That’s Roger’s bucket brigade 
idea.” 

“Why don’t we work for the Red Cross?” asked 
Della. 

“I saw in the paper a plan that seems better still 
for us youngsters,” said Ethel Blue. “Some people 
are going to send over a Christmas ship with thou- 
sands and thousands of presents for the orphans and 
the other children all over Europe. Why don’t we 
work for that? For the Santa Claus Ship? ” 

“ ‘Charity begins at home,’ ” demurred Margaret. 

“We needn’t forget the Glen Point orphans. The 
Christmas Ship is going to sail early in November 
and we’ll have plenty of time after she gets off to 
carry out those other schemes that we’ve spoken of.” 

“I’d like to move,” said Ethel Brown, getting on 
to her feet to make her action more impressive, 
“that the United Service Club devote Itself first to 
preparing a bundle to send off on the Christmas Ship. 
After that’s done we can see what comes next.” 

“Does any one second the motion, that we work 
first for the Christmas Ship?” asked Helen. 

Every voice In the room cried “I do.” 

“All in favor?” There was a chorus of “Ayes.” 

“Contrary minded?” Not a sound arose. 

“It’s a unanimous vote that we start right In on 
the bundle for the Santa Claus Ship.” 


CHAPTER IV 


FINANCIAL PLANS 

parliamentary business fusses me,” ex- 
X claimed Helen. “Let’s just talk, now that 
weVe decided what we are going to do.” 

“Take a more comfortable chair,” suggested Tom, 
pulling over a Morris chair nearer the fire. 

Roger stirred up the flames and tossed on some 
pine cones. 

“These cones remind me that our old people down 
by the bridge might like some. They have a funny 
open stove that they could use them in.” 

“What are they good for? Kindling?” asked 
Della. 

“Hal There speaks the city lady used only to 
steam! Certainly they are good for kindling on 
account of the pitch that’s in them, but they’re also 
great in an open fire to brighten it up when it is sink- 
ing somewhat and one or two at a time tossed on 
to a clear fire make a pretty sight.” 

“And a pretty snapping sound,” added Dorothy, 
remembering the cones from the long leaf pines. 

“Our old couple gets a bushel on Monday after- 
noon if it ever stops raining,” promised Roger. 
“Dicky loves to pick them up, so he’ll help.” 

“The honorary member of the United Service 
Club does his share of service work right nobly,” de- 
clared James, who was a great friend of Dicky’s. 

35 


36 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“The thing for us to do first is to decide how we 
are to begin,” said Helen. 

“We might talk over the kinds of presents that 
the war orphans would like and then see which of 
them any of us can make,” suggested Margaret 
wisely. 

“Any sort of clothing would come in mighty handy, 
I should think,” guessed James, “and I don’t believe 
the'orphans would have my early prejudices against 
receiving it for Christmas gifts.” 

“Poor little creatures, I rather suspect Santa Claus 
will be doing his heaviest work with clothing this 
year.” 

“As far as clothing is concerned,” said Margaret, 
“we needn’t put a limit on the amount we send or the 
sizes or the kinds. The distributors will be able to 
use everything they can lay their hands on when the 
Christmas Ship comes in and for many months later.” 

“Then let’s inquire of our mothers what there is 
stowed away that we can have and let’s look over 
our own things and weed out all we can that would 
be at all suitable and that our mothers will let us 
give away, and report here at the next meeting.” 

“While we’re talking about the next meeting,” 
broke in Dorothy while the others were nodding their 
assent to Helen’s proposition, “won’t you please 
come to my house next time?” 

“We certainly will,” agreed Della and Margaret. 

“You bet,” came from the boys. 

“And Mother told me to offer the Club the use of 
our attic to store our stuff in. It’s a big place with 
almost nothing in it.” 

“I’m sure Aunt Marion will be glad not to have 
anything else go into her attic,” said Ethel Blue, and 


FINANCIAL PLANS 


37 

all the Mortons laughed as they thought of the con- 
dition of the Morton attic, whose walls were almost 
bulging with its contents. 

“If that’s settled we must remember to address 
all our bundles to ‘Mrs. Leonard Smith, Church 
Street, Rosemont,’ ” James reminded them. 

“It seems to me,” Ethel Brown said slowly, think- 
ing as she spoke, “that we might collect more cloth- 
ing than we shall be able to find in our own fam- 
ilies.” 

“There are a good many of us,” suggested Della. 

“There are two Watkinses and two Hancocks and 
five Mortons and one Smith — that’s ten, but if the 
rest of you are like the Morton family — we wear 
our clothes pretty nearly down to the bone.” 

All the Mortons pealed at this and the rest could 
not help joining in. 

“One thing we must not do,” declared Helen. 
“We must not send a single old thing that isn’t in 
perfect order. It’s a poor present that you have to 
sit down and mend.” 

“We certainly won’t,” agreed Margaret. “I wear 
my clothes almost down to the skeleton, too, but I 
know I have some duds that I can make over into 
dresses for small children. I’m gladder every 
day that we took that sewing course last summer, 
Helen.” 

“Me, too. My dresses — or what’s left of them 
— usually adorn Ethel Brown’s graceful frame, but 
perhaps Mother will let us have for the orphans the 
clothes that would ordinarily go to Ethel Brown.” 

Ethel Brown looked worried. 

“Ethel Brown doesn’t know whether that will 
mean that she’ll have to go without or whether she’ll 


38 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

have new clothes instead of the hand-me-downs,” 
laughed Roger. 

“I don’t care,” cried Ethel Brown. “I’d just as 
lief go without new clothes if Mother will let the 
Club have the money they’d cost.” 

“I’ve been thinking,” said Tom, “that we’re going 
to need money to work this undertaking through suc- 
cessfully. How are we going to get it?” 

“But shall we need any to speak of?” inquired 
Margaret. “Fixing up our old clothes won’t cost 
more than we can meet ourselves out of our allow- 
ances. I’m going to ask my Aunt Susy to let me 
have some of the girls’ old things. The girls will 
be delighted; they’re the ones who have the plain 
clothes.” 

“We’ll fix them up with ruffles and bows before 
we send them away,” smiled Helen. 

“Why can’t we ask everybody we come across for 
old clothes?” Ethel Blue wondered. 

“Grandmother Emerson would be sure to have 
something in her attic and I shouldn’t wonder if 
she’d be willing to ask the ladies at the Guild if 
they’d contribute,” said Helen. 

“Do we want to take things from outside of the 
Club?” objected Ethel Brown. 

“I don’t see why not,” answered Margaret. “The 
idea is to get together for the orphans as many pres- 
ents as possible, no matter where they come from. 
We’re serving the orphans if we work as collectors 
just as much as if we made the clothes ourselves.” 

“Right-o,” agreed Roger. “Let’s tackle every- 
body we can on the old do’ question. We can ask 
the societies in our churches — ” 


FINANCIAL PLANS 


39 

‘‘Why not in all the churches in town?’’ dared 
Ethel Blue. 

The idea brought a pause, for the place was small 
enough for the churches to meet each other with an 
occasional rub. 

“I believe that’s a good idea,” declared Tom, and 
as a clergyman’s son they listened to his views with 
respect. “All the churches ought to be willing to 
come together on the neutral ground of this club 
and if we are willing to take the responsibility, of 
doing the gathering and the packing and the ex- 
pressing to the Christmas Ship I believe they’ll be 
glad to do just the rummaging in their attics and 
the mending up.” 

“We needn’t limit their offerings to clothes, 
either,” said Della. “We’ll take care of anything 
they’ll send in.” 

“Let’s put it up to them, I say,” cried Roger. 
“There’s at least one member of the Morton family 
in every society in our church and we ought to get 
the subject before every one of those groups of peo- 
ple by the end of next week and start things boom- 
ing.” 

“We’ll do the same at Glen Point,” agreed Mar- 
garet. 

“I can’t promise quite as much for New York, 
because I don’t know what Father’s plans are for 
war relief work in his church, but I do feel pretty 
sure he’ll suggest some way of helping us,” said 
Della. 

“That’s decided, then — ^we’ll lay our paws on 
everything we can get from every source,” Tom 
summed up the discussion. “Now I come back to 


40 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


what I said a few minutes ago — I think we’re going 
to need more money to run this association than 
we’re going to be able to rake up out of our own al- 
lowances, unless Margaret’s is a good deal bigger 
than mine,” and he nodded toward Margaret, who 
had objected to the more-money idea when he had 
offered it before. 

“Just tell me how we’ll need more,” insisted Mar- 
garet. 

!‘I figure it out that the part we boys will have 
to do in this transaction will be to district this town 
and Glen Point and make a house to house appeal 
for clothes and any sort of thing that would do for 
a Christmas present, all to be sent to Mrs. Smith’s.” 

“That won’t cost anything but a few carfares, and 
you can stand those,” insisted Margaret. 

“Carfares are all right and even a few express 
charges for some people who for some reason aren’t 
able to deliver their parcels at Mrs. Smith’s house. 
But if you girls are going to make over some of these 
clothes and perhaps make new garments you’ll need 
some cash to buy materials with.” 

“Perhaps some of the dry goods people will con- 
tribute the materials.” 

“Maybe they will. But you mark my words — 
the cost of a little here and a little there mounts up 
amazingly in work of this sort and I know we’re 
going to need cash.” 

“Tom’s right,” confirmed Della. “He’s helped 
Father enough to know.” 

The idea of needing money, which they did not 
have, was depressing to the club members who sat 
around the fire staring into it gloomily. 

“The question is, how to get it,” went on Tom. 


FINANCIAL PLANS 


41 


“People might give us money just as well as 
cloth, I suppose,” suggested Margaret. 

“I think it would be a thousand times more fun to 
make the money ourselves,” said Ethel Blue. 

“The infant’s right,” cried Tom. “It will be 
more fun and what’s more important still, nobody 
can boss us because he’s given us a five dollar bill.” 

“I suppose somebody might try,” murmured 
Helen. 

“They would,” cried Tom and Della in concert. 

“We aren’t a clergyman’s children for nothing,” 
Tom went on humorously. “The importance a five 
dollar bill can have in the eyes of the giver and 
the way it swells in size as it leaves his hands is some- 
thing that few people realize who haven’t seen it 
happen.” 

“Let’s be independent,” cried Dorothy decidedly, 
and her wish was evidently to the mind of all the rest, 
for murmurs of approval went around the room. 

“But if we’re so high and mighty as not to take 
money contributions and if we nevertheless need 
money, what in the mischief are we going to do 
about it?” inquired Roger. 

“We must earn it,” said Helen. “I’ll contribute 
the money Mother is going to pay me for making a 
dozen middy blouses for the Ethels. She ordered 
them from me last summer when I began to take 
the sewing course and I haven’t quite finished them 
yet, but I’ll have the last one done this week if I can 
get home from school promptly for a day or two.” 

“I can make some baskets for the Woman’s Ex- 
change,” said Dorothy. 

“I learned how to make Lady Baltimore cake the 
other day,” said Margaret, “and I’ll go to some 


42 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

ladies in Glen Point who are going to have teas 
soon and ask them for orders.” 

“I can make cookies,” murmured Ethel Brown, 
“but I don’t know who’d buy them.” 

“You tell the kids at school that you’ve gone into 
the cooky business and you’ll have all the work you 
can do for a while,” prophesied Roger. “I know 
your cookies; they’re bully.” 

“I don’t notice that we boys are mentioning any 
means of making money,” remarked James dryly. 
“I confess I’m stumped.” 

“I know what you can do,” suggested Margaret. 
“Father said this morning that he was going to get 
a chauffeur next week if he could find one that 
wouldn’t rob him of all the money he made. You 
can run the car — why don’t you offer to work half 
time — afternoons after school, for half pay? That 
would help Father and he’d rather have you than a 
strange man.” 

“He’d rather have half time, too. He likes to 
run the car himself, only he gets tired running it all 
day on heavy days. Great head. Sis,” and James 
made a gesture of stroking his sister’s locks, to which 
she responded by making a face. 

“I know what I can do,” said Roger. “You know 
those bachelor girls about seventy-five apiece, over 
on Church Street near Aunt Louise’s — the Miss 
Clarks? Well, they had an awful time last year 
getting their furnace attended to regularly. They 
had one man who proved to be a — er,” Roger hesi- 
tated. 

“Not a total abstainer?” inquired James elegantly. 

“Thank you. Brother Hancock, for the use of 
your vocabulary. The next one stole the washing 


FINANCIAL PLANS 


43 


off the line, and the next one — Oh, I don’t know 
what he did, but the Miss Clarks were in a state of 
mind over the furnace and the furnace man all win- 
ter. Now, suppose I offer to take care of their fur- 
nace for them this winter? I believe they’d have 
me.” 

“I think they’d be mighty glad to get you,” con- 
firmed Helen. “Could you do that and take care 
of ours, too?” 

“Sure thing, if I put my mind on it and don’t 
chase off with the fellows every time I feel in the 
mood.” 

“Mother would like to have you take care of ours 
if you could manage three,” said Dorothy. 

“I’ll do it,” and Roger thumped his knee with de- 
cision. 

“I wouldn’t undertake too much,” warned Helen. 
“It will mean a visit three times a day at each house, 
you know, and the last one pretty late in the even- 
ing.” 

“I’m game,” insisted Roger. “You know I can 
be as steady as an old horse when I put my alleged 
mind on it. Mother never had any kick coming 
over my work in the furnace department last win- 
ter.” 

“She said you did it splendidly, but this means 
three times as much.” 

“I’ll do it,” and Roger nodded his head sol- 
emnly. 

“It seems to be up to Della and me to tell what 
we can do,” said Tom meditatively. “Father’s sec- 
retary is away on a three months’ holiday and I’m 
doing his typewriting for him and some other office 
stunts — as much as I can manage out of school 


44 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

hours, ril turn over my pay to the Club treasury.” 

This was greeted with applause. 

“I don’t seem to have any accomplishments,” 
sighed Della, her round head on one side. “The 
only thing I can think of is that I heard the ladies 
who have charge of the re-furnishing of the Rest 
Room in the Parish House say that they were going 
to find some one to stencil the window curtains. I 
might see if they’d let me do it and pay me. I 
didn’t take that class at the Girls’ Club last summer, 
but Dorothy and Ethel Brown could teach me.” 

“Of course.” 

“Or you could get the order from them. I’d fill 
it, and you could make the baskets for the Woman’s 
Exchange,” offered Dorothy. 

Della brightened. That was a better arrange- 
ment. 

“Try it,” nodded Tom. “If you turn out one 
order well you’ll get more; see if you don’t.” 

“Our honorary member, Mr. Dicky Morton, 
might sell newspapers since he got broken in to that 
business last summer,” laughed Ethel Brown. 
“Mother wouldn’t let him do it here, I know, but 
he can weave awfully pretty things that he learned 
at the kindergarten and if there are any bazars 
this fall he could sell some of them on commission.” 

“Dicky really understands about the Club. I 
think he’d like to do something for the orphans,” 
Helen agreed. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced Ethel Blue, 
rising in her excitement; “I have a perfectly grand, 
galoptious idea. Why do we wait for somebody 
else to get up a bazar to sell Dicky’s weaving? Let’s 
have a bazar of our own. Why can’t we have a 


FINANCIAL PLANS 


45 

fair with some tables, and ice cream and cake for 
sale and an entertainment of some kind in the even- 
ing? We all know all sorts of stunts; we can do 
the whole thing ourselves. If we announce that we 
are doing it for the Christmas Ship I believe every- 
body in town would come — ” 

— And in Glen Point and New York,” Roger 
mocked her enthusiasm. 

“You know we could fill the School Hall as easy 
as fiddle, Roger. You see everybody would know 
what we were at work on because we are going to 
begin collecting the clothes right off, so everybody 
will be interested.” 

Tom nodded approval. 

“Perhaps we can do the advertising act when we 
do the collecting.” 

“If I drive Father, I see myself ringing up all the 
neighboring houses while he’s in on his case,” said 
James, “and it’s just as easy to talk bazar part of 
the time as it is to chat old do’ the whole time.” 

“Can you get the School Hall free?” asked Tom. 

“We’d have to pay for the lighting and the jan- 
itor, but that wouldn’t be much,” said Roger. “It 
would be better than the Parish House of any of the 
churches because if we had it In a church there’d 
surely be some people who wouldn’t go because it 
was in a building belonging to a denomination they 
didn’t approve of, but no one can make any kick 
about the schoolhouse.” 

“It’s the natural neighborhood centre.” 

“We’ll have the whole town there.” 

“If we let In some of the school kids we’ll get 
all their families on* the string,” recommended Roger. 

“I’m working up a feat that I’ve never seen any 


46 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

one do,” said Tom. “I’ll turn it loose for the first 
time at our show.” 

“Remember, you’re all coming to me next Satur- 
day afternoon,” Dorothy reminded them as the 
Hancocks and Watkinses put on their overgarments 
and sought out their umbrellas preparatory to going 
home. 

“And we’ll bring a list of what we can contribute 
ourselves and what we’ve collected so far and what 
we think we can collect and we’ll turn in anything 
we’ve made.” 

“If there’s anything we can work on while the 
Club is going on we’d better bring it,” suggested 
Helen. 

“Mother says we may have the sewing machine 
in the attic,” said Dorothy. 

“I believe I’ll take my jig-saw over,” suggested 
Roger. “Aunt Louise wouldn’t mind, would she?” 

“She’d be delighted. Bring everything,” and 
Dorothy glowed with the hospitality that had been 
bottled up in her for years and until now had had but 
small opportunity to escape. 


CHAPTER V 

ROGER GOES FORAGING 



LTHOUGH Helen never had been president 


of any club before, yet she had seen enough 
of a number of associations in the high school and 
the church to understand the advantage of striking 
while the iron of enthusiasm was hot. For that 
reason she and Roger worked out the districting of 
Rosemont before they went to bed that night, and 
the next afternoon Roger went over to Glen Point 
on his bicycle, and, with James’s help, did the same 
for that town. It was understood that Tom would 
not be able to come out again until Saturday, but 
he had agreed to be on hand early in the morning 
to do a good half day of canvassing. The girls 
were to speak to every one to whom they could bring 
up the subject conveniently, wherever they met them. 

Roger began his work on Monday afternoon after 
school. He wheeled over to a part of the town 
where he did not know many people, his idea being 
that since that would be the most disagreeable place 
to tackle he would do it first and get it over with. 
He was a merry boy, with a pleasant way of speak- 
ing that won him friends at once, and he was not 
bothered with shyness, but he did hesitate for an in- 
stant at his first house. It was large and he thought 
that the owner ought to be prosperous enough to 
have plenty of old clothes lying about crying to be 
sent to the war orphans. 

It was a maid whose grasp on the English lan- 


47 


48 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

guage was a trifle uncertain who opened the door. 
Roger stated his desire. 

“Old clothes?” she repeated after him. “I’ve no 
old clothes to give you,” and she shut the door 
hastily. 

Roger stood still with astonishment as if he were 
fastened to the upper step. Then his feelings 
stirred. 

“The idiot!” he gasped. “She thought I wanted 
them for myself,” and he looked down at his suit 
with a sudden realization that his long ride over one 
dusty road and a spill on another that had recently 
been oiled had not improved the appearance of his 
attire. However, he rang the bell again vigor- 
ously. The woman seemed somewhat disconcerted 
when she saw him still before her. 

“I don’t want the clothes — ” began Roger. 

“What did you say you did for?” inquired the 
maid sharply, and again she slammed the door. 

By this time Roger’s persistency was roused. He 
made up his mind that he was going to make himself 
understood even if he did not secure a contribution. 
Once more he rang the bell. 

“You here!” almost screamed the girl as she saw 
once more his familiar face. “Why don’t you go? 
I’ve nothing to give you.” 

“Look here,” insisted Roger, his toe in the way 
of the door’s shutting completely when she should 
try to slam it again; “look here, you don’t under- 
stand what I want. Is your mistress at home?” 

The girl was afraid to say that she was not, so 
she nodded. 

“Tell her I want to see her.” 


ROGER GOES FORAGING 


49 


“What’s your name?” 

“I’m Roger Morton, son of Lieutenant Morton. 
I live on Cedar Street. Can you remember that?” 

She could not, but her ear had caught the military 
title and upstairs she conveyed the impression that at 
least a general was waiting at the door. When the 
mistress of the house appeared Roger pulled off his 
cap politely, and he was such a frank-faced boy that 
she knew at once that her maid’s fears had been un- 
necessary, though she did not see where the military 
title came in. Roger explained who he was and 
what he wanted at sufficient length, and he was re- 
warded for his persistency by the promise of a bun- 
dle. 

“I know your grandmother, Mrs. Emerson,” 
said the lady, who had mentioned that she was Mrs. 
Warburton, “and your aunt, Mrs. Smith, has hired 
one of my houses, so I am glad on their account to 
help your enterprise, though of course its own appeal 
is enough.” 

Roger thanked her and took the precaution to in- 
quire the names of her neighbors, before he pre- 
sented himself at another door. He also reached 
such a pitch of friendliness that he borrowed a whisk 
broom from Mrs. Warburton and redeemed his 
clothes from the condition which had brought him 
into such disfavor with the maid-servant. 

There was no one at home in the next house, but 
the next after that yielded a parcel which the old 
lady whom he interviewed said that he might have 
if he would take it away immediately. 

“I might change my mind if you don’t,” she said. 
“I’ve been studying for ten days whether to make 


20 


50 ETHEL AND. THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

over that dress with black silk or dark blue velvet. 
If I give the dress away I shan’t be worried about it 
any longer.” 

“Very well,” cried Roger, and he rolled the frock 
up as small as he could and fastened it to his handle 
bars. 

There was no one at home at the next house, but 
the woman who came to the door at the next after 
that listened to his story with moist eyes. 

“Come in,” she said. “I can give you a great 
many garments. In fact there are so many that per- 
haps I’d better send them.” 

“Very well,” returned Roger. “Please send 
them to my aunt’s,” and he gave the address. 

“You see,” hesitated Roger’s hostess, now frankly 
wiping her eyes, “I had a little daughter about ten 
years old, and — and I never have been willing to 
part with her little dresses and coats, but how could 
I place them better than now?” 

Roger swallowed hard. 

“I guess she’d like to have ’em go over there,” he 
stammered, and he was very glad when he escaped 
from the house, though he told his mother, “she 
seemed kind of glad to talk about the kid, so I didn’t 
mind much.” 

“Count listening as one of the Club services,” re- 
plied Mrs. Morton. 

Back in his own part of town Roger felt that his 
trip had been profitable. A very fair number of 
garments and bundles had been promised, and he 
had told everybody he could to watch the local paper* 
for the announcement of the entertainment to be 
given by the U. S. C. 

“Everybody seemed interested,” he reported at 


ROGER GOES FORAGING 


51 

Home. “I don’t believe we’ll have a mite of trou- 
ble in getting an audience.” 

It was at a cottage not far from the high school 
that Roger came upon his nearest approach to an 
adventure. When he touched the buzzer the door 
was opened by an elderly woman who spoke with a 
marked German accent. Roger explained his er- 
rand. To his horror the woman burst into tears. 
When he made a gesture of withdrawal she stopped 
him. 

“My son — my son is mit de army,” she exclaimed 
brokenly. “My son und de betrothed of my daugh- 
ter. We cannot go to the Fatherland. The Ger- 
man ships go no more. If we go on an English or 
French ship we are kept in England. Here must we 
stay — here.” 

“You’re safe here, at any rate,” responded Roger, 
at a loss what reply to make that would be soothing 
in the face of such depressing facts. 

“Safe I” retorted the woman scornfully. “Who 
cares to be safe? A woman’s place is mit her men 
when they are in danger. My daughter and I — we 
should be in Germany and we cannot get there !” 

“It’s surely a shame if you want to go as much as 
that,” returned Roger gently, and just then to his 
surprise there came through an inner door a young 
woman whom he recognized as his German teacher 
in the high school, Fraulein Hindenburg. Her face 
was disfigured with weeping and he knew now why 
she had seemed so ill and listless in her classes. 

“You must not mind Mother,” she said, looking 
surprised as she saw one of her pupils before her. 
“It is true that we would go if we could but we can- 
not, so we must stay here and wait.” 


52 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


Roger explained his errand. 

“To work for the war orphans of all countries?” 
cried both women excitedly. “Gladly! Gladly!” 

“We are knitting every day — scarfs, socks, wrist- 
lets,” said the older woman. “Also will we so 
gladly make clothing for the children and toys and 
playthings — what we can.” 

Fraulein smiled a sad assent and Roger wheeled 
off, realizing that the pain caused by the war no 
longer existed for him only in his imagination; he 
had seen its tears. 

So freely had people responded to Roger’s appeal 
that he began to wonder how the Club was going to 
take care of all the garments that would soon be 
coming in. After that thought came into his mind 
he made a point of asking the givers if they would 
send their offerings as far as possible in condition 
to be shipped. 

“Margaret and Helen can make over some of the 
clothes and the Ethels and Dorothy can help with 
the simple things, I suppose, but if there are many 
grown-up dresses like this one on my handle bar 
they won’t have time to do anything else but dress- 
make,” meditated Roger as he pedalled along. 

Nowhere did he meet with a rebuff. Every one 
was pleased to be asked. Many offered to make 
new garments. One old woman who lived in a 
wheel-chair but who could use her hands, agreed to 
sew if the material should be sent her. Many moth- 
ers seemed to consider it a Heaven-sent opportunity 
to make a clearance of the nursery toys though 
Roger stoutly insisted that they must all be in work- 
ing order before they were turned in. 

“It’s been perfectly splendid,” breathed Roger 


ROGER GOES FORAGING 


53 


joyfully as he finished his third afternoon and came 
into the house to report to his mother and Helen. 
“It’s a delight to ask when you feel sure that you 
won’t have to coax as you usually do when you’re 
getting up anything. Everybody seems to jump at 
the chance.” 

Toward the end of the week Ethel Blue came in 
beaming. 

“I’ve got some entirely new people interested,” 
she cried. 

“Who? Who?” 

“The last people you’d ever think of — the women 
in the Old Ladies’ Home.” 

“Why should you think them the very last to be 
interested?” asked Mrs. Emerson who happened to 
be at the Mortons’ and whose fingers were carrying 
the flying yarn that her needles were manufacturing 
into a sock. “Most of them are mothers and it 
doesn’t take a mother to be interested in such a 
cause as this. Every human being who has any 
imagination must feel for the sufferings of the poor 
children.” 

“It seemed queer to me because I’ve never seen 
them do anything but just sit there with their hands 
in their laps.” 

“Poor souls, nobody ever provides them with any- 
thing to do.” 

“Now all of them say that they’ll be delighted to 
sew or knit or do anything they can if the materials 
are provided for them.” 

“Here’s where we can begin to spend the money 
Mother has offered to advance us,” cried Ethel 
Brown. “Can’t we go right after school to-morrow 
and buy the yarn for them. Mother?” 


54 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“Indeed you may. Has Della sent you the knit- 
ting rules from the Red Cross yet?” 

“We’re expecting them in every mail. If they 
don’t come before we take the wool to the Home we 
can start the ladies on scarfs. They’re just straight 
pieces.” 

“Mrs. Hindenburg and Fraulein are knitting wrist- 
lets for the German soldiers. They could give the 
rule for them, I should think,” suggested Roger, 
“and our old lady friends can just cut it in halves for 
the kids.” 

It was the next day that Helen came in from 
school all excitement. 

“I’ve made a discovery as thrilling as Roger’s 
about Fraulein!” she cried. 

“What? Who is it about? Tell us.” 

“It’s about Mademoiselle Millerand.” 

“Your French teacher?” asked Mrs. Emerson. 

“She was new at school last year and you’ve heard 
us say she’s the most fascinating little black-eyed 
creature.” 

“Perhaps she can’t talk fast!” added Roger. 

“What’s the story about her?” demanded Ethel 
Brown. 

“It’s not a romantic story like Fraulein’s; that is, 
there’s no betrothed on the other side that she’s crazy 
to get to; but she’s going over to join the French 
Red Cross.” 

“That little thing!” cried Roger. “Why she 
doesn’t look as if she had strength enough to last 
out a week!’’ 

“She says she’s had a year’s training in nursing 
and that a nurse is taught to conserve her strength. 
She hopes she’ll be sent to the front.” 


ROGER GOES FORAGING 


55 

“The plucky little creature ! When is she going?” 

“As soon as she can put in a substitute at the 
school; she doesn’t want to leave us in the lurch after 
she made a contract for the year.” 

“It may take some time after that to arrange for a 
sailing, I suppose.” 

“Perhaps so. Any way I think it would be nice 
if we gave her a send-off — ” 

“Just as we will Fraulein if her chance comes.” 

“We can make some travelling comforts.” 

“She won’t be able to carry much,” warned Mrs. 
Morton. 

“Everything will have to be as small as possible, 
but we can hunt up the smallest size of everything. 
I think it will be fun I” 

“She’ll probably be very much pleased.” 

“I wish there was something rather special we 
could do for Fraulein too, so we could be perfectly 
impartial.” 

“Watch for the chance to do something extra nice 
for her. She’s having the harder time of the two; 
it’s always harder to stay and wait than it is to go 
into action, even when the action is dangerous.” 

While the Mortons were canvassing Rosemont, 
James and Margaret were doing the same work in 
Glen Point. Dr. Hancock had accepted his son’s 
offer and James was now regularly engaged as his 
father’s chauffeur, working after school hours every 
school day and on Saturday mornings. The Doctor 
insisted that he should have Saturday afternoons free 
so that he might go to the Club. He was also quite 
willing that James should follow the plan he had 
sketched at the last Club meeting and visit the 
neighbors of his father’s patients while Doctor Han- 


56 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

cock was making his professional calls. The plan 
worked to a charm and James found Glen Point 
quite as ready as Rosemont to respond to the “bitter 
cry of the children.” 

“So many people are getting interested I almost 
feel as if it weren’t our affair any longer,” James 
complained to his father as they were driving home 
in the dusk one afternoon. 

“Look out for that corner. That’s a bad habit 
you have of shaving the curbstone. You needn’t 
feel that way as long as your club is doing all the 
organizing and administration. That’s the part that 
seems to make most people hesitate about doing good 
works. It isn’t actual work they balk at; it’s leader- 
ship.” 

“If handling the stuff and disposing of it is leader- 
ship then we’re a ‘going concern’ all right,” declared 
James. “Roger telephoned over this morning that 
the bundles were coming in to Mrs. Smith’s at a great 
rate, and that a lot of people were making new gar- 
ments and things that will turn up later.” 

“When is Tom coming out?” 

“Saturday morning. I’ve saved one district for 
him to do then and that will finish up Glen Point as 
Roger and I sketched it out.” 

“It hasn’t been so hard a job as you thought.” 

“Chasing round in the car has saved time. This 
is a bully job of yours, Dad.’^ 

“You won’t hold it long if you cut corners like 
that, I warn you again.” 

“I’ll try to cut ’em out/* laughed James as he care- 
fully turned into the Hancocks’ avenue. 


CHAPTER VI 

IN THE SMITH ATTIC 


RANDFATHER EMERSON wants to give 

Vjr the Club a present,” cried Ethel Brown as 
the last arrivals, the Hancocks, came up the stairs 
and entered the attic of Dorothy’s house on Satur- 
day afternoon. 

The large room was half the width of the whole 
cottage and, with its low windows and sloping roof 
had a quaint appearance that was increased by its 
furnishing of tables and seats made from boxes 
covered with gay bits of chintz. Dorothy had not 
neglected her work for the orphans but she had found 
time to fit up the meeting place of the U. S. C. so 
that its members might not have to gather in bare 
surroundings. The afternoon sun shone brightly in 
through simple curtains of white cheesecloth, the sew- 
ing machine awaited Helen beside a window with a 
clear north light, and Roger’s jig-saw was in a favor- 
able position in a corner. Each one who came up the 
stairs gave an “Oh” of pleasure as the door opened 
upon this comfortable, cheerful room where there 
was nothing too good to be used and nothing too bad 
to have entrance to the society of beauty-loving folk. 
“What did your grandfather give us?” asked Mar- 
garet. 

“Grandfather has been awfully interested in the 
Club from the very beginning, you know. The other 
57 


58 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

day he asked if we wouldn’t like to have him give us 
club pins with our emblem on them.” 

“How perfectly dear of him!” ejaculated Della. 

“Don’t let your hopes rise too high. I said it 
would be simply fine to have little forget-me-not pins 
like those we talked about at our very first meeting 
in the ravine at Chautauqua — do you remember?” 

“Blue enamel,” murmured Dorothy. 

“He said he wanted us to have them, and that it 
was a lovely symbol and so on, and he’d seen some 
ducks of pins in New York that were just what we’d 
like, and some single flower ones for the boys — ” 

“Um. This suspense is wearing on me,” re- 
marked Roger. 

“We talked it over and the way it came out was 
that Grandfather said that perhaps he’d better give 
us now the money the pins would cost and keep his 
present for later.” 

No one could resist a groan. 

“He won’t forget it. Grandfather never forgets 
to do what he promises. We’ll get them some time 
or other. But I had a feeling that we’d like them 
later better even than now because we’d feel then that 
we’d really earned them after the Club had done 
something worth while, you know.” 

“I suppose we will,” sighed Della, “but they do 
sound good to me.” 

“He was bound that we should have the forget-me- 
not in some form or other,” went on Ethel Brown, 
“and he’s sent us a rubber stamp with ‘U. S. C.’ 
on it and a forget-me-not at each end of the initials. 
There’s an indelible pad that goes with it and we are 
to stamp everything we send out on some part where 
it won’t be too conspicuous.” 


IN THE SMITH ATTIC 


59 

“It will be like signing a letter to the child the 
present goes to,” said Dorothy. 

“Isn’t he a darling!” exclaimed Ethel Blue. “I 
love him as much as if he were my own grandfather.” 

“He turned the money right over into my hand,” 
continued Ethel Brown — “the money he didn’t spend 
for the pins, I mean. It’s fifteen dollars. What 
shall I do with it?” 

“Pay for the yarn you bought for the women in 
the Old Ladies’ Hcyne to knit with,” said Helen 
promptly. 

“ ‘ “The time has come,” the walrus said,’ ” quoted 
Tom, “when we must have a treasurer. It was all 
very well talking about not needing one when we 
didn’t have a cent of money, but now we are on the 
way toward being multis and we can’t get on any 
longer without some one to look after it.” 

“Let’s make Tom treasurer and then he can fuss 
over the old accounts himself,” suggested Roger. 

Roger’s loathing for keeping accounts was so well 
known that every one laughed. 

“Not I,” objected Tom. “I’m not at all the right 
one. It ought to be one of you people who live out 
here where we’re going to do our work. You’ll have 
hurry calls for cash very often and it would be a 
nuisance to have to wait a day to write or phone me. 
No, sir, Roger’s the feller for that job.” 

“No, Roger isn’t,” persisted that young man dis- 
gustedly. “I buck, I kick, I remonstrate, I protest, 
I refuse.” 

“Here, here,” called Ethel Blue. “Who said you 
could have James’s vocabulary?” 

“Well, James, then,” said Tom. “It doesn’t 
make much difference who it is as long as he lives in 


6o ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


these precincts and not as far away as I do. Madam 
President, I nominate Mr. Hancock for treasurer 
of the United Service Club.” 

“You hear the nomination,” responded Helen. 
“Is it seconded?” 

“I second it with both hands and an equal number 
of feet,” replied Roger enthusiastically. 

“Now is the opportunity for a discussion of the 
merits of the candidate,” observed Helen drily. 

“There are many things that might be said,” re- 
joined Dorothy, “but because it would probably em- 
barrass him — ” 

“Oh, say!” came from James. “Are they as bad 
as that?” 

“As I was remarking when I was interrupted,” 
continued Dorothy severely, “because it might make 
the candidate feel queer if he were to hear all the 
compliments we should pay him, I think we won’t 
say anything.” 

“I’ll trust old Roger not to pay compliments,” re- 
sponded James. 

“Old Roger is in such a good humor because this 
job is being worked off on to your shoulders instead 
of his that he might utter some blandishments that 
would surprise you.” 

“I wouldn’t risk it I” 

, “Are you ready to vote?” asked Helen. 

“We are,” came ringing back, and the resulting 
ballot placed James in the treasurership, the only 
dissenting vote being his own. His first official act 
after the money was put into his hands was to give 
it back to Ethel Brown in part repayment of the sum 
which her mother had advanced for the yarn for the 
Old Ladies’ Home. 


IN THE SMITH ATTIC 


6i 

“Here’s another bundle,” announced Mrs. Smith, 
appearing with a large parcel as the Club members 
were looking over the collection that had come in. 
All the contributions were piled in a corner, and 
already they made a considerable mound. 

“Roger will have to apply some of his scientific 
management ideas to that mass of stuff,” laughed 
Mrs. Smith. 

“I wish we could spread them out so that we could 
get an idea of what is which.” 

“Couldn’t we boys make some sort of rack divided 
into cubes or even knock together a set of plain 
shelves? That would lift them off the floor.” 

“I wish you would,” said Helen. “Then we ought 
to put a tag on each bundle telling who sent it and 
what is in it.” 

“And what we think can be done with it, if it isn’t 
in condition to send off just as it is,” added Ethel 
Brown. 

“I believe I saw some planks in the cellar that 
would make sufficiently good shelves for what you 
need,” said Mrs. Smith. “Suppose you boys go down 
stairs with me and take a look at them while the girls 
are making out the tags.” 

So the boys trooped after their hostess while Ethel 
Brown unscrewed the cap of her fountain pen and 
wrote on the tags that Dorothy cut out of cardboard, 
and Ethel Blue fitted them with strings, so that they 
might be tied on to the parcels. 

“These dresses and coats came from Mrs. Ames,” 
said Helen. “They belonged to her daughter who 
died, and they’re all right for a child of ten, so we’ll 
just mark the bundle, ‘From Mrs. Ames,’ and ‘O.K.,’ 
and put it away.” 


62 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“There’s an empty packing box over in that 
corner,” said Dorothy. “Wouldn’t it be a good 
scheme to put the bundles we shan’t have to alter at 
all, right into it?” 

“Great. Then we shan’t have to touch them again 
until the time comes to tie them up in fancy paper 
to make them look Christmassy.” 

“Here’s the dress Mrs. Lancaster couldn’t decide 
whether to have made over with black silk or blue 
velvet.” 

“Mrs. Lancaster,” murmured Ethel Brown, mak- 
ing out her card. 

“That certainly can’t go as it is,” pronounced 
Della. 

“There’s material enough in it for two children’s 
dresses,” decided Margaret. “Mark it, ‘Will make 
two dresses.’ ” 

“Here’s Maud Delano’s jacket. She told Roger 
she’d send this over when she got her new one.” 

“It came this morning. It’s all right except for 
tightening a button or two,” and Ethel Brown in- 
scribed, “Coat; tighten buttons” on the slip which 
Della tied on to one of the incompetent fasteners. 

“Good for Mrs. Warburton!” cried Helen. 

“What’s she done?” 

“Here’s a great roll of pink flannelette — and blue, 
too — among her things. We can make dresses and 
wrappers and sacques and petticoats out of that.” 

“It always seems just as warm as woolen stuff to 
me,” said Dorothy. “Of course it can’t be.” 

“Cotton is never so warm as wool, but if it’s warm 
enough why ask for anything different. What’s in 
your mind?” inquired Margaret. 

“I was wondering if we couldn’t do something to 


IN THE SMITH ATTIC 63 

forward the cotton crusade at the same time that 
we’re helping the war orphans.” 

“You mean by making things out of cotton ma- 
terials ?” 

“Yes. The orphans will want the warmest sort 
of clothing for winter, I suppose, but spring is com- 
ing after winter and summer after that, and I don’t 
believe anything we send is going to be wasted.” 

“They might wear two cotton garments one over 
the other,” suggested Della. 

“I don’t say that we’d better make all our clothes 
out of cotton material, but where it doesn’t make any 
especial difference I don’t see why we shouldn’t 
choose cotton stuff. After all, it’s the war that has 
spoiled the cotton trade so we’re still working for war 
sufferers only they’ll be on this side of the Atlantic. 
You know they say the southern cotton planters are 
having a serious time of it because they aren’t selling 
any cotton to speak of in Europe.” 

“Let’s do it!” cried Ethel Blue and she told their 
decision to James who had com^ up to measure the 
attic doorway for some reason connected with the 
planks they had found. 

“It’s a great idea. Bully for Dorothy,” he cried 
working away with a footrule. “This will go all 
right,” he decided, and ran down again to give a lift 
to the other carpenters. 

There were eight planks each about six feet long 
that Mrs. Smith had discovered in the cellar. A 
telephone to Mrs. Warburton had gained her consent 
to their use and the boys set about fitting them to- 
gether as soon as they were on the top floor. Fortu- 
nately they were already planed and of so good a 
length for the purpose they were to be used for that 


64 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

nothing was needed but hammer and nails to produce 
a set of shelves quite adequate for the purpose. Two 
of the boards made the sides, and between them the 
remaining six were nailed at intervals. 

“We can set it against the wall over here,” decided 
Tom, “and it won’t need a back.” 

“Which is lucky,” James declared, “cos there ain’t 
no planks to make a back of.” 

“Let’s nail a block of wood or a triangle of wood 
under the bottom shelf in the corners,” advised 
Roger, “so the animal won’t wobble.” 

“If we had enough wood and a saw we could make 
nice cubby-holes, one for each bundle,” remarked 
Tom, his head on one side. 

“Tom’s getting enthusiastic over carpentering. 
We haven’t either any more wood or a saw, old man, 
so there won’t be any cubby-holes this time,” decreed 
Roger. 

“It will do perfectly well this way,” said Helen. 
“Now if you’ll help us up with these bundles — ” 

It was a presentable beginning for their collection. 
Two parcels in addition to Mrs. Ames’s had gone 
into the packing case in the corner, but three shelves 
of the new set were filled with tight rolls, each with 
its tag forward so that no time would be lost in 
examining the contents again. 

“That’s what I call a good beginning,” announced 
Helen after the boys had swept up their shavings 
and had taken thern and their hammers and the re- 
maining nails down stairs. 

“What next. Madam President?” inquired James 
when they returned. The girls were already spread- 
ing out the pink and blue flannelette on a plank table 


IN THE SMITH ATTIC 65 

h 

that had been left in the attic by the carpenters who 
had built the house. 

“We are going to cut some little wrappers out of 
this material. I think you boys had better fix up 
some sort of table over on that side of the room and 
get your pasting equipment ready, for we’ll need 
oodles of boxes of all sizes and you might as well 
begin right off to make them.” 

“Right-o,” agreed Roger. “Methinks I saw an 
aged table top minus legs leaning against the wall in 
the cellar. Couldn’t we anchor it on to this wall with 
a couple of hinges and then its two legs will be a 
good enough prop?” 

“If they’re both on the same side.” 

“It seems to me they are.” 

“Any superfluous hinges around the house, Doro- 
thy?” 

“I’m afraid not.” 

“Never mind. I’ll get a pair when I go after the 
pasteboard and the flour for the paste and a bowl for 
a pastepot, and a — no, three brushes for us three boys 
to smear the paste with and some coarse cotton cloth 
for binders.” 

“Don’t forget the oil of cloves to keep your paste 
from turning sour,” Dorothy cried after them. 

“And mind you boil it thoroughly,” said Margaret. 

The boys started again towards the cellar when 
Roger’s eye happened to fall on the cutting opera- 
tions of the girls. 

“Pshaw!” he cried in scorn. “You are time- 
wasters I Why don’t you cut out several garments 
at once and not have to go through all that spread- 
ing out and pinning down process every time? I 


21 


66 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


saw a tailor the other day cutting a pile of trousers 
two feet high.” 

“What with, I should like to know?” inquired 
Della mystified. 

“He did have a knife run by electricity,” admitted 
^ Roger, “but there’s no 
reason why you can’t cut 
four or five of those 
things just as easily as 
one.” 

“We’ll go on down 
and get the table top,” 
said James, and he and 
Tom departed. 

“Now, then, watch 
your Uncle Roger. Is 
this tissue paper affair 
your pattern? All you 
need to do is to fasten 
your cloth tightly down 
on to your table four 
thicknesses instead of 
one. Thumb tacks, Dor- 
othy? Good child! Now 
lay your pattern on it — 
yes, thumb-tack it down 
if you want to — and go 
ahead. You’ve got new, 
sharp shears. Don’t be 
in a hurry. There you 
are — and you’ve saved 
doing that three times 



Pattern for Wrapper 
e c e = twice the length from 
floor to neck 
a b = slit 

Fold cloth on line cbd 
Sew together sides ftoe 
Insert sleeves c to £ 

yourself the fuss of 


“Roger really has a lot of sense at times,” ad- 


IN THE SMITH ATTIC 


67 


mitted Ethel Brown, after her brother had leaped 
down the attic stairs in pursuit of the boys. 

“He is good about helping,’’ added Della. 

“What is this garment — a wrapper?” asked Mar- 
garet as Helen held up the soft flannelette. 

“Yes, it’s the simplest ever, and we can adapt one 
pattern to children 
of all sizes or to 
grown people,” ex- 
plained Helen. 

“I never heard 
of anything so con- 
venient!” 

“First, you meas- 
ure the child from 
the floor to his neck 
— I measured this 
on Dicky. Then 
you cut a piece of 
material twice that 
length. That is, if 
the kiddy is thirty 
inches from the 
floor to the chin you 
cut your flannelette 
sixty inches long.” 

“Exactly. Then 
cut a lengthwise slit 
thirty inches long. Then fold the whole thing in 
halves across the width of the cloth and sew up the 
sides to within four and a half inches of the top and 
you have a wrapper all but the sleeves.” 

“How do you make those?” 

“It takes half a yard for a grown person — a quar- 



Wrapper Completed 


68 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


ter of a yard for a youngster. Cut the width in 
halves and double it and sew it straight into the 
holes you’ve left at the tops.” 

“Will that be the right length?” 

“You can shorten it if you like or lengthen it by 
a band. You finish the slit up the front by putting on 
a band of some different color. It looks pretty on 
the ends of the sleeves, too. We can use blue on 
this pink and pink on the blue.” 

“It’s easy enough, isn’t it? I think I’ll make my- 
self one when we get through with the Ship.” 

“All you need to know is the length from the per- 
son’s chin to the floor and you can make it do for 
anybody. And all you need to do to make a short 
sacque is to know the length from the person’s chin 
to his waist. I have a notion we’ll have some wee 
bits left that we can make into cunning little jackets 
for babies.” 

“I don’t see why this pattern wouldn’t do for an 
outdoor coat if you made it of thicker cloth — eider- 
down, for instance.” 

“It would. Gather the ends of the sleeves about 
an inch down so as to make a ruffle, and put frogs or 
buttons and loops on the front and there you have 
it!” 

“Did you bring a petticoat pattern, Margaret?” 
asked Ethel Blue. 

“Haven’t you seen the pictures of European peas- 
ant women and little girls with awfully full skirts? 
I believe they’d like them if we just cut two widths 
of the same length, hemmed them at the bottom, and 
ran a draw-string in the top. We can feather-stitch 
the top of the hem if we want to make it look pretty, 


IN THE SMITH ATTIC 69 

or we can cut it a little longer and run one or two 
tucks.” 

“Or we might buttonhole a scallop around the 
edge instead of hemming it,” suggested Ethel Brown. 

“You know I believe in doing one thing well,” 
said Dorothy. “How would it do if we Club girls 
made just coats and wrappers and sacques from that 
pattern of Helen’s, and petticoats? We can make 
them of all sorts of colors and a variety of materials 
and we can trim them differently. We’d be making 
some mighty pretty ones before we got through.” 

“I don’t see why not,” agreed Margaret thought- 
fully. “Let’s do it.” 

“I brought the Red Cross knitting directions,” said 
Della. “I didn’t get them till this morning.” 

“Grandmother will be delighted with those. She’s 
going to take them to the Old Ladies’ Home and 
start them all to work there.” 

“Are you sure they’ll knit for the children?” 

“She’s going to ask them to knit for the children 
now, with bright-colored yarns. Afterwards they 
can knit for the soldiers, and then they must use dark 
blue or grey or khaki color — not even a stripe that 
will make any poor fellow conspicuous.” 

As they finished reading the instructions they heard 
the boys tramping upstairs with their paraphernalia. 

“It looks to me, Dorothy,” said Tom, “as if you 
had us on your hands for most of these club meet- 
ings, to do our work here. Are you sure Mrs. Smith 
doesn’t mind?” 

“Mother is delighted,” Dorothy reassured him. 
“And she wants you all to come down and have some 
chocolate.” 


CHAPTER VII 

FOR A TRAVELLER'S KIT 

O NCE the Club was started on its work it seemed 
as if the days were far too short for them to 
accomplish half of what they wanted to do. Mrs. 
Morton insisted that her children should have at 
least two hours out of doors every day, and that cut 
down the afternoons into an absurdly brief working 
time. Mrs. Smith had electric lights installed in her 
attic and it became the habit of the Mortons and 
often of the Hancocks to meet there and cut and sew 
and jig-saw and paste for an hour or two every 
evening. The Watkinses were active in New York 
evidently, for Della sent frequent postcards asking 
for directions on one point or another and Tom 
exchanged jig-saw news with Roger almost daily. 

Meanwhile the war was in every one’s mind. The 
whole country realized the desirability of trying to 
obey President Wilson’s request for neutrality in 
word, thought, and deed. The subject was forbid- 
den at school where the teachers never referred to 
the colossal struggle that was rending Europe and 
the children of varied ancestries played together har- 
moniously in the school yard. If at the high school 
Fraulein and Mademoiselle were looked at with a 
new interest by their scholars no word suggestive of 
a possible lack of harmony was uttered to them, and 
their friendship for each other seemed to increase 
with every day’s prolongation of the war. 

70 


FOR A TRAVELLER’S KIT 


71 


In the Morton family war discussion was not for- 
bidden and the events of the last twenty-four hours 
as the newspapers reported them were talked over 
at dinner every evening. Mrs. Morton thought that 
the children should not be ignorant of the most up- 
heaving event that had stirred the world in centuries, 
but she did not permit any violent expressions of 
partisanship. 

“You children are especially bound to be neutral,” 
she insisted, “because your father and Ethel Blue’s 
father are in the service of our country, and a neu- 
trality as complete as possible is more desirable from 
them and their families than from civilians.” 

A new idea was blossoming in the young people’s 
minds, however. They had grown up with the belief 
that armament was necessary to preserve peace. 
Great men and good had said so. “If we are pre- 
pared for war,” they declared, “other nations will be 
afraid to fight us.” Captain and Lieutenant Mor- 
ton had agreed with them, as was natural for men of 
their profession. They did not believe in aggres- 
sion but in being ready for defense should they be 
attacked. 

Now it seemed to Roger and Helen as they read 
of the sufferings of Invaded France and the distress 
of trampled Belgium that no country had the right 
to benefit by results obtained through such cruel 
means. 

“Just suppose a shell should drop down here just 
as we were walking along,” Imagined Roger as he 
and Helen were on their way to school. “Suppose 
Patrick Shea’s cornfield there was marched over be- 
fore the corn was harvested and all these houses and 
churches and schools were blown up or burned down 


72 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

and all the people of this town were lying around 
in the streets dead or wounded!” 

“When you bring it home to Rosemont it doesn’t 
sound the way it does when you read in the histories 
about a ‘movement’ here and a ‘turning of the right 
flank’ there, and ‘the end of the line crumpling up.’ 
When the line crumples up it means fathers and 
brothers are killed and women and children starve — ” 

“Think what it would be to have nothing to eat 
and to have to grub around in the fields and devour 
roots like the peasants in the famine time in Louis 
XIV’s reign.” 

“And think about the destruction of all the little 
homes that have been built up with so much care and 
happiness. Mary told me her sister bought a chair 
one month and a table at another time when she and 
her husband came across bargains,” said practical 
Ethel Brown who had caught up with them. 
“They’ve furnished their whole house the way we 
children have added to our kitchen tins and plates; 
and then everything would be broken to smash by 
just one of those shells.” 

“The people who’ve been spreading the gospel 
of peace for years and years needn’t be discouraged 
now, it seems to me,” observed Roger thoughtfully, 
“even if it does look as if all their talk had been for 
nothing. These horrors make a bigger appeal than 
any amount of talk.” 

“Grandfather Emerson says that perhaps univer- 
sal peace is going to be the result of the war. It 
seems far off enough now.” 

“It will be dearly bought peace.” 

“Hush, there goes Mademoiselle. I wonder when 
she’s going to sail.” 


FOR A TRAVELLER’S KIT 


73 


“Why don’t you ask her to-day? The Club must 
give her some kind of send-off, you know.” 

“I wonder if she’d mind if we went to New York 
to see her start?” 

“It won’t be hard to find out. We can tell her 
that we won’t be offended if she says ‘No.’ ” 

“If she’s willing we might take that opportunity 
to go over the ship. I’ve always wanted to go over 
an ocean steamer.” 

“Perhaps they won’t let anybody do it now on 
account of the war. It will be great if we can, 
though.” 

The Service Club learned more geography in the 
course of its studies of the war news than its mem- 
bers ever had learned before voluntarily. The ap- 
proach of the German army upon Paris was watched 
every day and its advance was marked upon a large 
map that Roger had installed in the sitting-room. 
When the Germans withdrew the change of their line 
and its daily relation to the battle front of the Allies 
was noted by the watchful pencil of one or another 
of the newspaper readers. 

Thanks to the simplicity of the pattern which the 
Club had adopted for its own they were enabled to 
make a large number of gay garments in a wonder- 
fully short time. From several further donations of 
material they made wrappers for children of four- 
teen, twelve, ten, down to the babies, adding to each 
a belt of the same color as the band so that the 
garments might serve as dresses at a pinch. They 
found that with the smaller sizes they could cut off a 
narrow band from the width of the cloth at each 
side, and that served as trimming for another gar- 
ment of contrasting color. 


74 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

When they had constructed a goodly pile of long 
wrappers they fell upon the short sacques, and before 
many days passed a mound of pink-banded blue and 
blue-banded pink, and red-banded white and white- 
banded red rose beside their machines. Della wrote 
that she was using her mother’s machine and was 
learning how better and better every day. Thanks 
to their lessons at Chautauqua Margaret and Helen 
sewed well on the machine already. Ethel Brown 
and Ethel Blue and Dorothy basted on the bands 
and the belts and added the fastenings. It was their 
fingers, too, that feather-stitched and cat-stitched 
the petticoats that came into being with another 
donation of flannelette. Dorothy was glad when 
any new material was cotton as every yard that they 
used helped the South to rid itself of its unsold crop. 

“Ladies are going to wear cotton dresses all winter, 
they say,” she told the Club at one of its meetings. 
“Mother is going to let me have all my new dresses 
made of cotton stuff and she’s going to have some 
herself.” 

“We wear cotton middies all winter,” protested 
the Ethels who felt as if Dorothy felt that they were 
not doing their share to help on the cause she was 
interested in. 

“When Aunt Marion gets your new dancing school 
dresses couldn’t you ask her to get cotton ones?” 

“I suppose we could. Do you think they’d be 
pretty enough?” 

“Some cotton dresses that are going to be worn 
on the opening night of the opera at the Metropolitan 
are to be on exhibition in New York in a week or 
two.” 

“If cotton is good enough for that purpose I guess 


FOR A TRAVELLER’S KIT 


75 . 

it’s good enough for your dancing class,” laughed 
Helen. 

“Mother says they make perfectly beautiful cot- 
tons now of exquisite colors and lovely designs. 
Don’t you think it would be great if we set the 
fashion of the dancing class?” 

“Let’s do it. Mother says silk isn’t appropriate 
for girls of our age, anyway.” 

“If you can be dressed appropriately and beauti- 
fully at the same time I don’t see that you have any- 
thing to complain of,” smiled Helen. 

With the short time that the girls had at their 
command every day it did not seem as if they would 
be able to do much with the garments that came in to 
be made over. There were not many of these be- 
cause the boys had been instructed after the first day 
to ask that alterations and mending be done at home, 
but there were a few dresses like Mrs. Lancaster’s 
that were on their hands. Mrs. Smith came to their 
help when this work bade fair to be too much for 
them. 

“I’ll ask Aunt Marion and Mrs. Emerson and 
Mrs. Hancock and Mrs. Watkins to lunch with me 
some day,” she promised Dorothy, “and after 
luncheon we’ll have an old-fashioned bee and rip up 
these dresses and then we can see what material they 
give us and we can plan what to do with them.” 

The scheme worked out to a charm. The elders 
enjoyed themselves mightily and the resulting pile 
of materials, smoothly ironed and carefully sorted 
gave Margaret and Helen a chance to exercise their 
ingenuity. Mrs. Watkins took back to town with 
her enough stuff for two, promising to help Della 
with them, and the suburban girls, with the assistance 


76 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

of the grown-ups, made six charming frocks that 
looked as good as new. 

It was early in October that Helen rushed home 
from school one day with the news that Mademoiselle 
was going to sail at the end 
of the week. 

“We must begin to-day to 
make up a good-bye parcel 
for her,” she cried. 

“Red Cross nurses are 
allowed a very small kit,” 
warned Mrs. Morton. 

“We can try to make 
things so tiny that she won’t 
have to leave them behind 
her when she goes on duty, 
but even if she does she can 
give them to somebody who 
can make them useful.” 

“I’ll make steamer slip- 
pers to begin with,” said 
Ethel Brown. 

“How?” asked Ethel 
Blue. 

“You get a pair of fleecy 
inner soles — they have them 
at all the shoe stores — and 
then you cut a top piece of bright colored chintz 
just the shape of the top part of a slipper and you 
sew it together at the back and bind the edges all 
around.” 

“How do you put the top and the sole together?” 

“The edge of the sole is soft enough to sew 
through. You turn the top inside out over the sole 



FOR A TRAVELLER’S KIT 


77 


and sew the binding of the chintz on to the edge of 
the sole over and over and when you turn It right 
side out there you are with gay shoes.” 

“They’ll fill up a bag, though,” commented Ethel 
Blue. “I should think you might make a pair just 
like that only make the sole of something that would 
double up. Then they’d go Into a case and be more 
compact.” 

“That’s a good Idea, too,” agreed Ethel Brown. 
“What could you use for a sole?” 

“Soft leather would be best. I Imagine you could 
get a piece from the cobbler down town. Or you 
could get the very thin leather that they used at 
Chautauqua for cardcases and pocket books — the 
kind Roger uses — and stitch two pieces together.” 

“Why wouldn’t a heavy duck sole do ?” suggested 
Mrs. Emerson. 

“If you stepped on a pin It wouldn’t keep It out as 
well as leather,” objected her daughter. 

“I believe I’ll try a pair with a flowery chintz top 
and a duck sole covered with chintz like a lining to 
the shoe,” said Ethel Blue slowly as she thought it 
out. “Then I’ll make the case of two pieces of 
chintz bound together.” 

“One piece ought to be longer than the other so 
that it would be a flap to come over like an 
envelope.” 

This was Ethel Brown’s contribution to the slipper 
building. 

“You could fasten it with a glove snapper. I got 
some the other day for my leather work,” said Roger. 
“I’ll put them on for you.” 

“Why don’t you Ethels make both kinds?” sug- 
gested Dorothy. “She’ll find a use for them.” 


78 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“If you girls will make it I’ll contribute the silk for 
a bath wrap that she can throw over her warm one, 
just for looks, on the boat,” said Mrs. Emerson. 
“I have one I use on sleeping cars and it rolls up into 
the smallest space you can imagine.” 



Place section a on section b and sew edges together, leaving c d 
open 

e = Snap fastening 

“Good for Grandmother!” cried a chorus of 
voices. 

“Can we use our famous wrapper pattern?” asked 
Helen. 

“I don’t see why not. Mine has a hood but that 
isn’t a difficult addition if you merely shape the neck 
of your kimono a little and then cut a square of the 
material, sew it across one end and round the lower 
end a trifle to fit into the neck hole you’ve made.” 


FOR A TRAVELLER’S KIT 


79 

“How about longer sleeves, Mother?” asked Mrs. 
Morton. 

“I think I would make them longer. And I’d also 
make an envelope bag of the same silk to carry it in 
on the return trip from the bath. You’ll be sur- 
prised to find into how small an envelope it will go.” 

“Put a cord from one corner of the envelope to 
the other so that Mademoiselle may have her hands 
free for her soap and towel and other needfuls,” 
advised Mrs. Smith, who had been listening to the 
suggestions. 

“Wouldn’t another envelope arrangement of 
chintz lined with rubber cloth make a good washrag 
bag or sponge bag?” asked Ethel Brown. 

“Nothing better unless you put a rubber-lined 
pocket in a Pullman apron.” 

This hint from Grandmother Emerson aroused the 
curiosity of the young people. 

“What is a Pullman apron? Tell us about it,” 
they cried. 

“Mine is made of linen crash,” said Mrs. Emer- 
son. “Dorothy will insist on your making yours of 
cotton chintz and it will be just as good and even 
prettier. Get a yard. Cut off a piece thirty inches 
long and make it fourteen wide. Bind the lower 
edge with tape. Turn up six inches across the bot- 
tom and stitch the one big pocket it makes into 
smaller ones of different sizes by rows of up and 
down stitching. Make a bag of rubber cloth just the 
right size to fit one of the larger pockets. Take the 
six inches that you cut off from your yard of material 
and bind it on both edges with tape. Stitch that 
across your apron about four inches above the top of 
the lower row of pockets. Divide the strip into as 


So ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


unany pockets as you want to for hairpins and pins 
and neck arrangements, and so on.” 

“Your apron has two raw edges now,” said Helen. 
“Bind it on each side with tape. That will finish 
it and it will also fasten the edges of the pockets 



d b plus the turned up portion, b a,= 30 inches 
b a = 6 inches 
b b = 14 inches 
c c c = pockets 
d d = strings 


securely to the apron. Sew across the top a tape long 
enough to serve as strings.” 

“The idea is to roll all your toilet belongings up 
together in your bag, eh?” 

“Yes, and when you go to the ladies’ room on the 
train you tie the apron around your waist and then 
you have your brush and comb and hairpins and tooth 


FOR A TRAVELLER’S KIT 


8i 


brush and washrag all where you can lay your fingers 
on them in a second of time.” 

“I got my best tortoise-shell hairpin mixed up with 
another woman’s once, and I never recovered it,” 
said Mrs. Morton meditatively. 

“It wouldn’t have happened if you’d been supplied 
with a bag like this,” said her mother. 

“Mademoiselle’s silk wrap must be grey to match 
her other Red Cross equipment,” said Mrs. Emer- 
son, “but I don’t see why the chintz things shouldn’t 
be as gay as you like.” 

“Pink roses would be most becoming to her style 
of beauty,” murmured Roger who had come in. 

“I don’t know but pink roses would be becoming 
enough for slippers,” agreed Ethel Blue so seriously 
that every one laughed. 

“Let’s get pink flowered chintz,” said Ethel 
Brown. “You make the soft kind and I’ll make the 
stiff kind and Dorothy’ll make the apron and Helen 
will make the kimono. Who’s got any more ideas?” 

“I have,” contributed Roger. “I’ll make a case 
for her manicure set. I haven’t got time this week 
unfortunately to tool the leather but I’ll make a plain 
one that will be useful if it isn’t as pretty as I can do.” 

“What shape will it be?” 

“I got part of my idea from Grandfather Emer- 
son’s spectacle case that I was examining the other 
day. Ethel Blue’s case for the soft slippers is going 
to be something like it.” 

“Two pieces of leather rounded at the lower cor- 
ners and stitched together at the sides and with a 
flap to shut in the contents?” guessed Dorothy. 

“Correct. I shall make the case about four inches 
long when it’s closed.” 

22 


82 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“That means that you’d have one strip four inches 
long and the other, the one with the flap, six inches 
long.” 

“Once more correct, most noble child. It will be 
a liberal two inches wide, a bit more in this instance 
because I’m not much of a sewer and I want to be 
sure that I’m far enough from the edge to make it 
secure.” 

“You don’t try to turn it inside out, do you?” 

“No, ma’am. Not that mite of an object. You 
fit a tiny pasteboard slide into the case. Cover it 
with velvet or leather or a scrap of Ethel Blue’s 
chintz — ” 

“ ’Rah for cotton,” cheered Dorothy. 

“ — and on one side of this division you slip in the 
scissors and the file and the tweezers or the orange 
stick and on the other a little buffer with a strap 
handle that doesn’t take up any room.” 

“How in the world do you happen to be so up 
in manicure articles?” queried Helen, amazed at his 
knowledge. 

“Nothing strange about that,” returned Roger. 
“Aunt Louise showed me hers the other day when I 
was talking to her about making one for just this 
occasion. Aha I” 

“You could make the same sort of case without 
the pasteboard partition, for a tiny sewing kit,” of- 
fered Ethel Blue, “and one of the envelope shape will 
hold soap leaves.” 

“I’d like to suggest a couple of shirtwaist cases,” 
said Mrs. Smith. “They are made of dotted Swiss 
muslin that takes up next to no room and washes like 
a handkerchief. You’d better make Mademoiselle’s 


FOR A TRAVELLER’S KIT 


83 

of colored muslin or of colored batiste for she won’t 
want to be bothered with thinking about laundry any 
oftener than she has to.” 

“What shape are the bags?” 

“Find out whether she will take an American suit- 
case or a bag. In either case measure the size of 
the bottom. Take a piece of muslin twice the size 
and lay it flat. Fold over 
the edges till they meet in 
the centre. Then stitch 
the tops across, on the in- 
side, of course, and hem 
the slit, and turn them 
right side out and that’s 
all there is to it. They 
keep waists or neckwear 
apart from the other 
clothing in one’s bag and 
fresher for the separa- 
tion.” 

“Since I have my hand 
in with knitting,” said 
Grandmother, “I believe 
I’ll contribute a pair of 
bed-shoes. They’re so sim- 
ple that any one who can knit a plain strip can do 
them.” 

“Let’s have the receipt.” 

“Cast on stitches enough to run the length of the 
person’s foot. Fifty will be plenty for any woman 
and more than enough for Mademoiselle’s tiny foot. 
It’s well to have the shoe large, though. Knit ahead 
until you have a strip six inches high. Then cast 




84 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

off from one end stitches enough to make four inches 
and go ahead with the remainder for four inches 
more.” 

“That sounds funny to me,” observed Ethel 
Brown. “Not exactly the shape of my dainty pedes- 
tal.” 

“You’ll have made a square with a square out of 
one corner like this piece of paper. Now fold it 
along the diagonal line from the tip of the small 
square to the farthest edge of the big square and sew 
up all the edges except those of the small square. 
That leaves a hole where you put your foot in. 
Crochet an edge there to run a ribbon in — and you’re 
done.” 

“I’m going to run the risk of Mademoiselle’s 
laughing at me and give her a folding umbrella,” said 
Mrs. Morton. “It will fit into her bag and at least 
she can use it until she goes to the front.” 

“All this sounds to me like a good outfit for any 
woman who is going to travel,” observed Helen. 
“I’m almost moved to sail myself!” 


CHAPTER VIII 

THE RED CROSS NURSE SETS SAIL 

T he girls’ cheeks were rosy and their hair was 
tangled by the wind as Helen and the rest of 
the U. S. C. left the car at West Street and made 
their way to the French Line Pier. Roger was head- 
ing the flock of Mortons, Mrs. Smith was with 
Dorothy, the Hancocks had come from Glen Point, 
more for the fun of seeing a sailing than to say 
“Good-bye” to Mademoiselle, whom they hardly 
knew. The Watkinses were accompanied by their 
elder brother, Edward, a young doctor. 

There was a mighty chattering as the party has- 
tened down the pier. A mightier greeted them 
when they reached the gang plank. 

“Every Frenchman left in New York must be here 
saying ‘Good-bye’ to somebody !” laughed Tom as his 
eye fell on the throng pressing on to the boat over a 
narrow plank across which passengers who had al- 
ready said their farewells were leaving, and stewards 
were carrying cabin trunks. 

“Only one passerelle for all that!” exclaimed a 
plump Frenchman whose age might be guessed by the 
fashion of his moustache and goatee which declared 
him to be a follower of Napoleon III. He was 
carrying a bouquet in one hand and kissing the other 
vehemently to the lady on the deck who was to be 
made the recipient of the flowers as soon as her 
85 


86 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

admirer could manage to squeeze himself down the 
over-crowded gang plank. 

Taxis driving up behind the U. S. C. young people 
discharged their occupants upon the agitated scene. 
All sorts of messages were being sent across to 
friends on the other side, many of them shouted from 
pier to deck with a volubility that was startling to 
inexperienced French students. 

It was quite twenty minutes before the Club suc- 
ceeded in filing Indian fashion across the passerelle. 
They were met almost at once by Mademoiselle, for 
she had been watching their experiences from the 
vessel. 

“Before you say ‘Good-bye’ to me,” she said hur- 
riedly, “I want you to go over the ship. I have 
special permission from the Captain. You must go 
quickly. There are not many minutes, you were so 
long in coming on.” 

She gave them over to the kind offices of a 
**monsse^^ or general utility boy, who in turn intro- 
duced them to a junior officer who examined their per- 
mit as “friends of Mademoiselle Millerand” and 
then conveyed them to strange corners whose exist- 
ence they never had guessed. 

First they peeked into a cabin w^hich was one of 
the handsomest on the ship but whose small size 
brought from Ethel Brown the comment that it was 
a “stingy” little room. The reading and writing 
rooms she approved, however, as being cheerful 
enough to make you forget you were seasick. A 
lingering odor of the food of yester-year seemed to 
cling about the saloon and to mingle with a whiff of 
oil from the engine room that had assailed them just 
before they entered. People were saying farewells 


THE RED CROSS NURSE SETS SAIL 87 

here with extraordinary impetuosity, men embracing 
each other with a fervor that made the less demon- 
strative Americans smile. One group was looking 
over a pile of letters on the table to see if absent 
friends had sent some message to catch them before 
they steamed. 

Below were other staterooms, rows upon rows of 
them, and yet others below those. By comparison 
with the fragrances here that in the saloon seemed a 
breeze from Araby the Blest. 

From above the party had looked down on the 
engines whose huge steel arms slid almost imper- 
ceptibly over each other as if they were slowly, slowly 
preparing to spring at an unseen foe ; as if they knew 
that great waves would try to still them, the mighty 
workers of the great ship. A gentle breathing now 
seemed to stir them, but far, far down below the 
waterline the stokers were feeding the animal with 
the fuel that was to give him energy to contend with 
storms and winds and come out victor. Half naked 
men, their backs gleaming in the light from the 
furnaces, threw coal into the yawning mouth. The 
heat was intense, and the Ethels turned so pale that 
young Doctor Watkins hurried them into the open 
air. Helen was not sorry to breathe the coolness 
of the Hudson again and even the boys drew a long 
breath of relief, though they did not admit that they 
had been uncomfortable. 

“Mademoiselle Millerand awaits you in the tea 
room,” explained the young officer, and he conducted 
them to a portion of the deck where passengers could 
sit in the open, or, on cold or windy days, behind 
glass and watch the sea and the passengers pacing by. 

Mademoiselle greeted them with shining eyes. 


88 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


During their absence there had been some farewells 
that had been difficult. 

“You have seen everything?” she inquired pleas- 
antly. “Then you must have some lemonade with 
me before you go,” and she gave an order that soon 
brought a trayful of glasses that tinkled cheerfully. 

“We are not going to be sentimental,” she insisted. 
“This is just ‘Good-bye,’ and thank you many times 
for being so good to me at school, and many, many 
times more for the bundle that is in my room to sur- 
prise me. I shall open it when the Statue of Liberty 
is out of sight, when I can no more see my adopted 
land. Then shall I think of all of you and of your 
Club for Service.” 

“Where do you expect to be sent. Mademoiselle?” 
inquired Doctor Watkins as the party walked toward 
the passerelle over which they must somehow con- 
trive to make their way before they could touch foot 
upon the pier. 

“To Belgium, I think. My brother is a surgeon 
and I have a distant relative in the ministry — ” 

“What-—/^^ Millerand?” 

Mademoiselle smiled and nodded. 

“So probably I shall be sent wherever I wish — and 
my heart goes out to Belgium. It is natural.” 

“Yes, it is natural. May you have luck,” he cried 
holding out his hand. 

“Mademoiselle is going to Belgium,” he told the 
young people who were awaiting their turn at the 
gang-plank. 

They gazed at her with a sort of awe. Tales of 
war’s horrors were common in the ears of all of them, 
and it was difficult to believe that the slight figure 
standing there so quietly beside them would see with 


THE RED CROSS NURSE SETS SAIL 89 

her own eyes the uptorn fields and downfallen cot- 
tages, the dying men and the miserable women and 
children they had seen only in imagination. 

“Oh,” gasped Ethel Blue; “oh! Belgium! Oh, 
Mademoiselle, won^t you send us back a Belgian 
baby? The Club would love to take care of it! 
Wouldn’t we? Wouldn’t we?” she cried turning 
from one to another with glittering eyes. 

“We would. Mademoiselle, we would,” cried every 
one of them; and as the big ship was warped out of 
the pier they waved their handkerchiefs and their 
hands and cried over and over, “Send us a Belgian 
baby!” 

“C/w hehe helge! Ces chers enfantsF^ ejaculated 
a motherly Frenchwoman who was weeping near 
them. “A Belgian baby! These dear children.” 

And then, to James’s horror, she kissed him, first 
on one cheek and then on the other. 


CHAPTER IX 

PLANNING THE U. S. C. “SHOW” 

I T was becoming more and more evident every day 
to the president of the United Service Club that 
it must have more money than was at its disposal at 
the moment or it would not be able to carry out its 
plans. Already it owed to Mrs. Morton a sum that 
Helen knew was larger than her mother could lend 
them conveniently. All of Grandfather Emerson’s 
donation had gone to provide knitting needles and 
yarn for the occupants of the Old Ladies’ Home, and 
the Club’s decision to lay itself under no financial 
obligation to people outside of the immediate families 
of the members had obliged her to refuse a few small 
gifts that had been offered. 

All the members of the Club were working hard 
to earn money beyond their allowances and every cent 
was going into the Club’s exchequer. Roger was 
faithful in his attention to the three furnaces he had 
undertaken to care for, though he was not above a 
feeling of relief that the weather was continuing so 
mild that he had not yet had to keep up fires con- 
tinuously in any of them. James still drove his 
father, though the doctor threatened him with dis- 
charge almost every day because of his habit of 
cutting corners. The girls were carrying out their 
plans for money-making, and Della had secured 
another order for stenciled curtains which Dorothy 
and Ethel Brown filled. 


90 


PLANNING THE U. S. C. “SHOW” 91 

What with school and working for the orphans 
and working for the Club treasury these were busy 
days, and Helen felt that something must be done at 
once to provide a comparatively large sum so that 
their indebtedness might be paid off and the pressure 
upon each one of them would not be so heavy. 

Helen and James were going over the Club ac- 
counts one Saturday before the regular meeting. A 
frown showed Helen’s anxiety and James’s square 
face looked squarer and more serious than ever as he 
saw the deficit piled against them. 

“It’s high time we gave that entertainment we 
talked about so much when we began this thing,” he 
growled. “People will have forgotten all about it 
and we’ll have to advertise it all over again.” 

“That’ll be easy enough if we make use of some 
of the small children in some way. All their rela- 
tives near and far will know all about it promptly 
and they’ll all come to see how the kiddies perform,” 
said Helen wisely, though her look of perplexity con- 
tinued. 

“Let’s bring it up at the meeting right now. I 
don’t believe we can do anything better this afternoon 
than plan out our show and decide who and what 
and where.” 

“ ‘Where’ is answered easily enough — the hall of 
the schoolhouse. ‘Who’ and ‘what’ require more 
thought.” 

It turned out, however, that every one had been 
thinking of stunts to do himself or for some one else 
to do, so that the program did not take as much time 
as if the subject had not been lying in their minds for 
several weeks. 

“At the beginning,” said Ethel Blue, “I think some 


92 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

one ought to get up and tell what the Club is trying 
to do — all about the war orphans and the Santa Claus 
Ship.” 

“Wouldn’t Grandfather Emerson be a good one 
to do that?” 

“I don’t think we want to have any grown people 
in our show,” was Helen’s opinion. “If we bring 
them in then the outside people will expect more from 
us because they’ll think that we’ve been helped and 
it won’t be fair to us or to our grown-ups.” 

“That’s so,” agreed Tom from the depths of a 
lifetime of experience of the ways of people in church 
entertainments. “Let’s do every single thing our- 
selves if we can, and I believe the audience will like 
it better even if it isn’t all as O. K. as it would be if 
we had a grown-up or two to help pull the oars.” 

“The first question before us, then, is who will do 
this explanation act that Ethel Blue suggests?” 

There was a dead silence. No one wanted to offer. 
There seemed no one person on whom the task fell 
naturally unless — “The Club was Ethel Blue’s idea,” 
went on Helen. “Isn’t she the right one to explain 
it?” and “The president of the Club ought to tell 
about it,” said Ethel Blue. Both girls spoke at once. 

There was unanimous laughter. 

“ ‘Ayther is correct,’ ” quoted Roger. “I think 
Helen is the proper victim.” 

“Yes, indeed,” Ethel Blue supported him so ear- 
nestly that every one laughed again. 

“You see, no one knows about its being Ethel 
Blue’s idea and that would take a lot more explain- 
ing or else it would seem that there was no good 
reason for the president’s not acting as showman and 
introducing her freaks to the audience.” 


PLANNING THE U. S. C. “SHOW”* 


93 


“‘Speak for yourself, John!’ I’m no freak!” 
declared James. “I think Helen’s the right one to 
make the introduction, though.” 

Helen shivered. 

“I must say I hate to do it,” she said, “but we all 
agreed when we went into this that we’d do what 
came up, no matter whether we liked it or not, so 
here goes Number i on the program,” and she wrote 
on her pad, beneath an elaborate 

PROGRAM 

which she had been drawing and decorating as she 
talked. 

I. Explanatory address. Helen Morton. 

“Now, then,” queried Ethel Brown, “what next?” 

“Music, if there’s any one to tootle for the 
ladies,” said Roger. 

“Dorothy’s the singer.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t sing all alone,” objected Dorothy 
shrinkingly. “But Mother said she’d drill a chorus 
of children and I wouldn’t mind doing the solo part 
with a lot of others on the stage with me.” 

“How about a chorus in costume?” asked Helen. 

“What kind of costume?” 

“Oh, I don’t know — something historical, per- 
haps.” 

“Why not the peasant costumes of the countries 
in the war?” suggested Ethel Blue. “We’re work- 
ing for the children and we’ll have a child or two 
from each country.” 

“A sort of illustration of Helen’s speech,” said 
Tom. 

“They might sing either the national songs of their 
countries or children’s songs,” said Dorothy. 


94 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“Or both, with you dressed as Columbia and sing- 
ing the Star Spangled Banner at the end.” 

“La, la! Fine!” commended Margaret. “Put 
down Number 2, Helen, ‘Songs by War Orphans.’ 
We can work out the details later, or leave them to 
Dorothy and her mother.” 

“Pve been thinking that we might as well utilize 
some of the folk dances that we learned at Chau- 
tauqua last summer,” said Ethel Brown. “Wouldn’t 
Number 3 be a good spot to put in the Butterfly 
Dance?” 

“That was one of the prettiest dances at the 
Exhibition,” said James. “Let’s have it.” 

“Margaret and I are too tall for it, but you four 
young ones know it and you can teach four more girls 
easily enough.” 

“We’ll ask them to-morrow at school,” said Doro- 
thy, “and we’ll have a rehearsal right off. Mother 
will play for us and it won’t take any time at 
all.” 

“The costumes won’t take any time, either. Any 
white dress will do and the wings are made by strips 
of soft stuff — cheese cloth or something even softer, 
pale blue and pink and ^reen and yellow. They’re 
fastened at the shoulders and a loop goes over the 
wrist or the little finger so the arms can keep them 
waving.” 

“Do you remember the steps, Dorothy?” 

“They’re very simple, but almost anything that 
moves sort of swimmingly will do.” 

“There’s Number 3, then,” decided Dorothy. 
“Now the boys ought to appear.” 

“Yes, what have you three been planning to throw 
us in the shade?” inquired Della. 


PLANNING THE U. S. C. “SHOW” 95] 

“IVe got a fancy club-swinging act that’s rather 
good,” admitted Roger modestly. 

“You have?” asked Tom in surprise. “So have 
I. What’s yours?” 

“Come over here and I’ll tell you,” and the two 
boys retired to a corner where they conferred. It 
was evident, from their burst of laughter and their 
exclamations that they highly approved of each 
other’s schemes. 

“We’ve decided that we won’t tell you what our 
act is,” they declared when they came back to the 
broken meeting. “We’ll surprise you as well as the 
rest of the audience.” 

“Meanies,” pronounced Ethel Brown. “Helen, 
put down ‘Number 4, Club Swinging by Two 
Geese I’” 

“Not geese,” corrected Tom, with a glance at 
Roger, who made a sign of caution. 

“What next?” queried the president. 

“Let’s have some of the small children now. Our 
honorary member ought to be on the card,” said 
Della. 

“Are you sure he wouldn’t be afraid?” asked Tom 
of Dicky’s brethren. 

“Not Dicky,” they shrieked in concert. 

“I saw a pretty stunt in town the other evening. 
It was done by grown people but it would be dear 
with little kids,” urged Della, her round face beam- 
ing with the joy of her adaptation of the idea. “It 
was a new kind of shadow dance.” 

“Pshaw, that’s old,” declared Tom with brotherly 
curtness. 

“It wasn’t done behind a sheet. That’s the old 
way — ” 


96 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“A mighty good way, too,” supported James 
stoutly. “I’ve seen some splendid pantomimes done 
on a sheet — ‘Red Riding Hood’ and ‘Jack the Giant 
Killer,’ and a lot more.” 

“This is much cunninger,” insisted Della. “In- 
stead of a sheet there’s a dull, light blue curtain hung 
across the stage. The light is behind it, but the ac- 
tors are in front of it.” 

“Then you don’t see their shadows.” 

“You see themselves in silhouette against the blue. 
There is a net curtain down between them and the 
audience and it looks like moonlight with elves and 
fairies playing in it.” 

“It would be hard to train Dicky to be a fairy,” 
decided Ethel Blue so gravely that all the others 
laughed. 

“I was thinking that it would be fun to have Dicky 
and some other children dressed like pussy cats and 
rabbits and dogs, and playing about as if they were 
frisking in the moonlight.” 

“Why not have them do a regular little play like 
‘Flossy Fisher’s Funnies’ that have been coming out 
in the Ladies* Home Journal?** screamed Ethel 
Brown, electrified at the growth of the idea. “Take 
almost any one of them and get the children to play 
the little story it tells and I don’t see why it wouldn’t 
be too cunning for words.” 

“What kind of stories?” asked James who liked 
to understand. 

“I don’t remember any one exactly but they are 
something like this; — Mr. Dog goes fishing on the 
bank of the stream. A strip of pasteboard cut at 
the top into rushes will give the effect of a brook, you 
know. He pulls up a fish with a jerk that throws 


PLANNING THE U. S. C. “SHOW” 97 

It over his head. Pussy Cat Is waiting just behind 
him. She seizes the fish and runs away with it. 
Mr. Dog runs after her. The cat jumps over a 
wheelbarrow, but the dog doesn’t see it and gets a 
fall — and so on.” 

“I can see how It would be funny with little scraps 
of kids,” pronounced Tom. “Who’ll train them?” 

“I’ll do that,” offered Ethel Brown. “Dicky’s 
always good with me and if he understands the story 
he’ll really help teach the others.” 

“Pick out a simple ‘Flossy Fisher’ or make up an 
easy story with plenty of action,” advised Margaret. 
“The chief trouble you’ll have is to make the chil- 
dren stay apart on the stage. They’ll keep bunching 
up and spoiling the silhouettes if you aren’t careful.” 

“Number 5. Silhouettes,” wrote Helen on her 
pad. “What’s Number 6?” 

“I don’t know whether you’ll approve of this,” 
offered Dorothy rather shyly, “but when I was at 
the Old Ladies’ Home the other day I thought they 
made a real picture knitting away there in the sun- 
shine in their sitting room. Do you think some of 
them could be Induced to come to the schoolhouse 
and make a tableau?” 

“Fine!” commended Helen. 

“You could have it a picture of sentiment, such as 
Dorothy had in mind, I judge,” said Tom, “or you 
could turn it Into a comic by having some one sing 
‘Sister Susie’s Sewing Shirts for Soldiers.’ ” 

“What’s that?” 

“A stay-at-home war song they’re singing in Eng- 
land. It’s funny because it’s so full of S’s that it’s 
almost impossible to sing it without a mistake. I 
think it would be better, though, to have the old 
23 


98 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

ladies just knitting away. After all, it’s sympathy 
with the orphans we want to arouse.” 

“Couldn’t we have a tableau within a tableau — a 
picture at the back placed with the figures posed be- 
hind a net curtain so that they’d be dimmed — a pic- 
ture of some of the Belgian orphans refugeeing into 
Holland or something of that sort?” 

“If Mademoiselle would only send us right off 
that Belgian baby that James got kissed for we’d 
have an actual exhibit,” said Roger. 

James made a face at the memory of the unex- 
pected caress he had earned unwittingly, but he ap- 
proved highly of the addition to the picture of the 
old ladies. 

“They’re thinking about the orphans as they knit — 
and there are the orphans,” he said, and even his 
sister Margaret smiled at the approbation with which 
he looked on a tableau that left nothing to the im- 
agination. 

“Number 6 is settled, then. Why can’t we have 
the minuet for Number 7 ?” 

“Good. All of us here know it so we shan’t need 
to rehearse much.” 

“On that small stage four couples will be plenty, 
I say,” offered Roger. 

“I think so, too. Eight would make it alto- 
gether too crowded,” declared Helen. “That means 
that four of us girls will dance — we can decide which 
ones later — and you three boys, and we’ll only have 
to train one new boy.” 

“What’s the matter with George Foster? His 
sister is a dancing teacher and perhaps he knows it 
already.” 

“He’s the best choice we can make. We want to 


PLANNING THE U. S. C. “SHOW” 99 

get this thing done just as fast as we can for several 
reasons,” continued Helen. “In the first place any 
entertainment goes off more snappily if the fun of 
doing it isn’t all worn off by too many rehear- 
sals.” 

“Correct,” agreed Tom. “Remember that Chil- 
dren’s Symphony we exhausted ourselves on for a 
month last winter, Della?” 

Della did and expressed her memories with closed 
eyes and out-stretched hands. 

“If each one of us makes himself and herself re- 
sponsible for having his own part perfect and the 
stunts that he’s drilling others in as nearly perfect as 
he can, then I don’t see why we need more than ten 
days for it.” 

“Especially as we know all the dances now and the 
Old Ladies’ Home tableau won’t take much prepara- 
tion.” 

“Have we got enough numbers on the program, 
Helen?” 

“I think we ought to end with a long thing of some 
sort.” 

“We’ll never pull off the show if you try to stick 
in a play,” growled James. 

“Not a play, but I was reading Browning’s ‘Pied 
Piper of Hamelin’ the other day and it can easily be 
made workable with just a little speaking and some 
pantomime. Two or three rehearsals ought to do 
it.” 

“All right, then. Your sufferings be on your 
head.” 

“You’ll all back me up, won’t you?” 

“We’ll do whatever you tell us, if that’s what you 
want.” 


100 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“Read us the whole program, Madam President,” 
begged Dorothy. 

“Here you are; Pve changed the order a little: 
PROGRAM 

1. Address, Helen Morton. 

2. Songs by War Orphans, led by Dorothy Smith. 

3. Butterfly Dance. 

4. Club Swinging by Roger Morton and Thomas 
Watkins. 

5. Knitting for the War Orphans by Ladies from 
the Old Ladies’ Home. 

6. Silhouettes by Dicky Morton and other 
Juniors. 

7. Minuet. 

8. “The Pied Piper.” 

“If I do say it as shouldn’t, having had a m’odest 
part in its construction,” remarked Roger compla- 
cently, “that’s a good program.” 

“Do you know,” added Margaret earnestly, “I 
think so too.” 

So, after discussion of details concerning responsi- 
bility and rehearsals, and the appointment of a pub- 
licity committee consisting of the oflicers of the Club 
plus Roger, the meeting adjourned. 


CHAPTER X 


THE EVENTFUL EVENING 

I F the U. S. C.’s had thought themselves busy- 
before they undertook their entertainment they 
concluded as they rushed from one duty to another 
in the ten days of preparation for that function that 
they had not learned the A B C of busy-ness. Mrs. 
Morton always insisted that, whatever was on foot, 
school work must not be slighted. 

“Your education is your preparation for life,” she 
said. “While you are young you must lay down a 
good foundation for the later years to build on. 
You know what happens when a foundation is poor.” 

They did. A building in Rosemont had fallen 
into a heap of ruins not long before, to the shame 
of the contractor who had put in poor work. 

So all the school duties were attended to faithfully, 
and the out-of-door time was not skimped though 
the out-of-door time was largely devoted to doing 
errands connected with the “show,” and the home 
lessons were learned as thoroughly as usual. But 
sewing went by the board for ten days except such 
sewing as was necessary for the making of costumes. 

“Here’s a chance for your Club to try out some 
of Roger’s ideas of system,” said Grandfather Emer- 
son as he listened to the plans which were always 
on the lips of the club members whenever he met 
them. 

lOI 


102 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“I think we’re doing it all pretty systematically,” 
Helen defended. “Each one of us is responsible 
for doing certain things and our work doesn’t over- 
lap. When we come together for a general re- 



Costume for Butterfly Dance 


hearsal I believe we’re going to find that all the parts 
will fit together like a cut-out puzzle.” 

Mr. Emerson said that he hoped so in a tone of 
such doubt that Helen was more than ever deter- 
mined that all should run smoothly. To that end 
she made a diplomatic investigation into every num- 
ber of the program. Every one she found to be 


THE EVENTFUL EVENING 103 

going on well. Her own address was already 
blocked out in her mind. Dorothy had taken bodily 
a singing class that Mrs. Smith had started at the 
Rosemont Settlement and, with the knowledge of 
singing that the children already had, they soon were 
drilled in their special songs and in the motions that 
enlivened them. Mrs. Smith and Dorothy were 
also preparing the costumes and they reported that 
the mothers of the children were helping, some of 
them providing actual peasant costumes that had 
come from the old country. 

With four girls who already knew the butterfly 
dance the drilling of another quartette was swiftly 
done, and the Ethels were willing to put their flock 
of butterflies on the stage four days after they had 
begun to practice. Because every one of them had 
a white dress their costumes required almost no 
work beyond the cutting lengthwise of a yard and a 
quarter of cheesecloth. When they had gathered 
one end and attached the safety pin which was to fas- 
ten it to the shoulder, and gathered the other end 
and sewed on a loop which was to go over the little 
finger — all of which took about five minutes — that 
costume was finished. 

About the boys’ club swinging Helen could not 
obtain any information beyond the assurance that all 
was well. With that she had to content herself. 

The old ladies at the Home were delighted to be 
able to help and also delighted at the excitement of 
taking part in the entertainment. They voted for 
the trio who should represent them in the tableaux 
and generously selected three who were the most 
handicapped of all of them. One was lame and al- 
ways sat with her crutch beside her; one was blind, 


104 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

though her fast flying fingers did not betray it; and 
the third lived in a wheel-chair. They demurred 
strongly to their companions’ choice, but the other 
old ladies were insistent and the appointees could 
not resist the fun. Mr. Emerson agreed to provide 
transportation for them, wheel-chair and all, and 
Doctor Hancock was to send over a wagonette from 
Glen Point so that the rest of the inmates of the 
Home might take advantage of the tickets that some 
mysterious giver had sent to every one of them. 
For the inner picture Dicky and two of his kinder- 
garten friends were to be posed, clad in rags. 

“It’s' no trouble to provide Dicky with a ragged 
suit,” said Mrs. Morton. “The difficulty is going 
to be to make him look serious and poorly fed.” 

“A little artistic shading under his eyes and on 
his cheeks will make his plumpness disappear. I’ll 
‘make up’ the children,” offered Mrs. Emerson. 

Most difficult of all were the silhouettes. This 
was because the children who were to take part were 
so tiny that they could not quite remember the se- 
quence of the story they were to act out. There 
were moments when the Ethels were almost disposed 
to give up the youngsters and try the shadows with 
larger children. 

“The little ones make so much cunninger cats and 
dogs than the bigger children I don’t want to do it 
unless we have to,” said Ethel Brown, and they 
found at last that perseverance won the day. Here, 
too, the children’s mothers helped with the costumes, 
and turned out a creditable collection of animal cov- 
erings, not one of them with a bit of fur. 

“They’re another help to your cotton crusade,” 
Ethel Blue told Dorothy. 


THE EVENTFUL EVENING 


105 


Grey flannelette made a soft maltese pussy; the 
same material in brown covered a dog; a white coat 
splashed with brown spots out of the family coffee 
pot was the covering of another Fido, while another 
white garment stained with black and yellow orna- 
mented a tortoise-shell cat. The rabbits all wore 
white. 

As with the butterfly dance so many of the per- 
formers knew the minuet that it needed only two re- 
hearsals. The new boy worked in without any 
trouble and was so graceful and dignified that the 
U. S. C. boys found themselves emulating his excel- 
lent manner. 

Helen herself took charge of “The Pied Piper” 
and so few were the speaking parts and so short and 
so natural the pantomime that she drilled her com- 
pany in three rehearsals, though she herself worked 
longer in private over the manipulation of certain 
stage “properties,” and had one or two special ses- 
sions with Dr. Edward Watkins who was to take 
the principal part. 

Friday evening was chosen for the performance. 
The Rosemont young people usually had their even- 
ing festivities on Fridays because they could sit up 
later than usual without being disturbed about school 
work the next morning. The special Friday proved 
to be clear with a brilliant moon and the old ladies 
driving over from the Home felt themselves to be 
out on a grand lark. Evidently the boys had done 
their publicity work thoroughly, for not only did 
they see a goodly number of Rosemont people ap- 
proaching the schoolhouse, but, just as they drove up 
to the door, a special car from Glen Point stopped 
to let off a crowd of friends of the Hancocks who 


io6 ETHEL. AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

had come over to see “what the children were doing 
for the war orphans/’ 

The school hall held 300 people and no seats were 
reserved except those for the old ladies. They 
found themselves in front where they could see well 
and where they were near enough to appreciate the 
care with which the edge of the platform was 
decorated. That had been Margaret Hancock’s 
work and she had remembered the success of the 
Service Club in preparing the platform for the Old 
First Night exercises at Chautauqua. 

Torn had insisted that the Club should go to the 
extra expense of having tickets printed. James had 
objected. 

“This old treasury of ours is almost an empty 
box,” he growled. “We can’t afford to spend cold 
cash on printing.” 

“It will pay in the end, believe me,” insisted Tom 
slangily. “You know there are always a lot of 
people who think they’ll go to a show and then at 
the last minute think they won’t if something more 
amusing turns up. If you sell tickets beforehand 
you’ve got their contribution to the cause even if 
they don’t appear themselves.” 

“Tom’s right,” agreed Margaret. “They won’t 
mind losing so small a sum as a quarter if they 
don’t go.” 

“And they’d think it was too small an amount to 
bother themselves about by hunting up the treasurer 
and paying it in if they didn’t have a ticket,” said 
Roger. 

“And there are some people who’d be sure to 
come and swell the audience just because they had 
spent a quarter on a ticket,” said Ethel Brown. 


the; eventful evening 107 

“What does the president think?” asked Ethel 
Blue. 

Helen agreed with Tom and the tickets were 
printed. After all they came to only a small sum 
and Roger, peeking through a hole in the curtain, 
saw with satisfaction that if there were going to be 
any vacant seats at all they would not be many. 
When one of the old ladies turned about just before 
the curtain went up she saw a solid room behind her 
and people standing against the wall. 

There was music before the curtain rose. This 
enrichment of the program was a surprise to the 
performers themselves. Young Doctor Edward 
Watkins had become so interested in the United 
Service Club when he met them at the French Line 
Pier that he had insisted on helping with their work 
for the orphans. 

“If Mademoiselle really sends you that Belgian 
baby you may need a special physician for it,” he 
said. “So you’d better stand in with one whose 
practice isn’t big enough yet to take all his time.” 

He said this to Helen when he appeared with 
Tom and Della on the evening of the performance 
and announced that not only did he know his part 
in the “Piper” but he had brought his violin and 
would be glad to be a part of the orchestra. 

“But we haven’t an orchestra,” objected Helen. 
“I wish we had.” 

“Who’s going to play for the dances?” 

“Aunt Louise.” 

“Why can’t she and I do something at the begin- 
ning? It will seem a little less cold than just hav- 
ing the curtain go up without any preliminaries.” 

Mrs. Smith proved to be delighted to go over 


io8 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


with Doctor Watkins the music he had brought and 
they selected one or two lively bits that would set 
the mood of the audience for the evening. So Mrs. 
Morton and the Emersons and the younger mem- 
bers of the cast were greatly surprised to hear an 
overture from a well-played violin accompanied by 
the piano. While the applause was dying away the 
curtain rose on Helen seated at a desk reading from 
a blank exercise book filled with Ethel Blue’s neat 
writing. 

“This is the report of the Secretary of the United 
Service Club,” began Helen when the applause that 
greeted her appearance had subsided. She was 
looking very pretty, wearing a straight, plain pink 
frock and having her hair bound with a narrow pink 
fillet. 

“Perhaps you don’t know what the United Service 
Club is,” she went on, and then she told in the sim- 
plest manner of the beginning of the Club at Chau- 
tauqua the summer before. 

“What we’re trying to do is to help other people 
whether we want to or not,” she declared earnestly. 

A soft laugh went over the audience at this con- 
tradictory statement. 

“I mean,” continued Helen, somewhat confused, 
“that we mean to do things that will help people 
even if we don’t get any fun out of it ourselves. 
We want to improve our characters, you see,” she 
added artlessly. “So far we haven’t had much 
chance to improve our characters because all the 
things that have come our way to do have been 
things that were great fun — like to-night. 

“To-night,” she went on earnestly, “you have 
come here to see a little entertainment that we’ve 


THE EVENTFUL EVENING 


109 


gotten up to make some money so that we could send 
a bigger bundle to the Christmas Ship that is going 
to sail for Europe early in November. We thought 
we could make a good many presents for the war 
orphans but we found that our allowances didn’t 
go as far as we thought they would, although we 
have a very careful treasurer,” she added with a 
smiling glance at the wings of the stage where James 
greeted her compliment with a wry face. 

“We made a rule that we would make all the 
money we needed and not accept presents, so this 
show is the result, and we hope you’ll like it. Any- 
way, we’ve had lots of fun getting it up.” 

She bowed her thanks to the applause that greeted 
her girlish explanation and stepped behind the scenes. 

Immediately a gay march sounded from the piano. 
It was a medley of well-known national songs and 
in time with its notes a group of children led by 
Dorothy ran upon the stage. Dorothy stepped to 
the front and sang a few lines of introduction to the 
tune of “Yankee Doodle.” 

“Here we are from Fatherland, 

From Russia and from France, 

From Japan and from Ireland 
We all together dance. 

“At home they are not dancing now; 

There’s war and awful slaughter ; 

We here in Rosemont make our bow, 

Each one Columbia’s daughter.” 

Then a flaxen-haired little girl stepped forward 
and sang a German folk song and after it she and 
two other children dressed in German peasant cos- 


no ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

tume danced a merry folk dance. Representatives 
of the other countries which Dorothy’s verses had 
named sang in turn. Then each group sang its na- 
tional song, at the end uniting in “The Star Spangled 
Banner,” in which the standing audience joined. 

There was a great clapping when the curtain fell, 
but the managers had decided that there should be 
no encores, so the curtain merely rose once upon a 
bowing, smiling group and then fell with a decision 
that was understood to be final. 

“Whatever we do wrong, the thing we must do 
right,” Helen had insisted when she was drilling her 
performers, “is to have promptness in putting on 
our ‘acts.’ ” 

“That’s so,” agreed Tom, “there’s nothing an au- 
dience hates more than to wait everlastingly between 
‘turns’ while whispering and giggling goes on be- 
hind the scenes.” 

As a result of Helen’s sternness the butterflies 
were waiting when the little internationals went off, 
and, as those of the children who were not to appear 
again filed quietly down into the audience where 
they could see the remainder of the performance, 
waving wings of soft pink and blue and green and 
yellow fluttered in from the sides. There was noth- 
ing intricate about the steps of this pretty dance. 
There were movements forward and back and to one 
side and another, with an occasional turn, but the 
slowly waving hands with their delicate burden of 
color made the whole effect entirely charming. 

When Tom and Roger, jersey clad, stepped on to 
the stage for the club-swinging act all the other 
performers were clustered in the wings, for it had 
roused their curiosity. Evidently Roger was to 


THE EVENTFUL EVENING 


III 


swing first for he stepped to the front while Tom 
beckoned to the janitor of the hall who came for- 
ward and attached electric light wires to a plug in 
the edge of the platform. Tom made a connection 
with wires that ran up under the back of Roger’s 
jersey and down his sleeves and through holes bored 
into his clubs, and then he stepped forward to the 
front. 

“While Roger Morton is swinging his clubs the 
lights of the hall will be turned off,” he explained. 
“I mention it so that no one will be startled when 
they go out.” 

Out they went, and in a flash Roger’s clubs, made 
of red and white striped cotton stretched over wire 
frames which covered electric light bulbs screwed to 
a sawed-off pair of clubs, were illuminated from 
within. The beauty of the movements as the clubs 
flashed here and there in simple or elaborate curves 
and whirls drew exclamations of enjoyment from 
the audience. 

“That’s one of the prettiest stunts I ever saw,” 
exclaimed Doctor Hancock, and Doctor Watkins 
led the vigorous applause that begged Roger to go 
on. True to his agreement with Helen, however, 
Roger stepped aside as soon as he was freed from 
his apparatus and the lights were turned on once 
more in the hall, and prepared to help Tom. 

It was clear that Tom, too, was not going to do 
ordinary club-swinging. He took up his position in 
the centre of the stage and Roger brought forward 
a box which he deposited beside him. The actors 
behind the scenes craned their heads forward until 
they were visible to the audience, so eager were they 
to see what the box contained. 


1 12 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“My friend, Tom Watkins,” said Roger gravely, 
“is something of a naturalist. In the course of his 
travels and studies he has come across a curious ani- 
mal whose chief characteristic is what I may be per- 
mitted to call its adhesive power. So closely does 
it cling to anything to which it attaches itself that it 
can be detached only with great difficulty. So 
marked is this peculiarity of the Cams Taurus — 

A peculiar grunt of amusement from certain high 
school members of the audience interrupted Roger’s 
oration. ^^Canis, dog; taurus, bull,” they whispered. 

“ — of the Canis Taurus he went on, “that Wat- 
kins has been able to train two of his specimens to do 
the very remarkable act that you are about to see.” 

As he ended he threw back the top of the box and 
there popped up over the edge the infinitely ugly 
heads of Cupid’s two pups. Amor and Amorette. A 
howl of laughter greeted their silly, solemn counte- 
nances. Tom whistled sharply and they sprang from 
their narrow quarters and ran to him. He stroked 
them, and faced them toward the footlights so that 
their eyes should not be dazzled by seeing them sud- 
denly. Then he began to play with them, pushing 
them about and shoving them gently with the ravelled 
ends of two short pieces of knotted rope. When he 
had teased them for a minute he stood upright and 
Amor and Amorette were hanging each from a rope ! 
It was a trick he had taught them as soon as their 
teeth were strong enough. 

Slowly he swung them back and forth, and then in 
semi-circles constantly increasing in sweep, until in 
a flash they rose over his head and described regular 
simple Indian club evolutions. Every move was 
slow and steady with no jerks that would break the 



She was looking very pretty in a pink frock” 


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THE EVENTFUL EVENING 113 

dogs’ hold and Amor and Amorette held on with a 
firmness that did credit to their inheritance of jaw 
muscle and determination. 

“Good for the Cams Taurus*^ laughed Mr. 
Wheeler, the high school teacher, from the back of 
the hall as the swinging died rhythmically away. 

“Speak to the ladies and gentlemen,” commanded 
Tom as he dropped the ropes and their attachments 
to the floor. Each dog was still holding firmly to 
his bit of rope and manifested no desire to part from 
it. At their master’s order, however, they let go of 
their handles and uttered two sharp barks. Then 
they picked them up again and trotted off the stage. 

All this was so unusual that it aroused the most 
fervent enthusiasm that had yet been shown. Feet 
stamped and canes rapped but Tom would do no 
more than walk on with a dog on each side of him 
and bow as they barked. 

With the announcement of the knitting tableau 
there was a flutter among the old ladies from the 
Home. Here was an act in which they felt a per- 
sonal interest. It was almost embarrassing to be so 
nearly related to a number on the program ! 

The curtain rose very slowly to soft music thrill- 
ing through the hall. It was a homely scene — just 
such a room as any one of the old ladies may have 
had when she still had a home of her own. There 
was a table with a lamp upon it and around the table 
were the three old ladies, one with her crutch and 
one in her wheel chair, and one sitting in the dark- 
ness that was daylight to her — the shining of a con- 
tented heart. All of them were knitting. 

Slowly there grew into view behind them on the 
wall the picture of the thoughts that were in their 
24 


1 14 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

minds — the picture of three children, pale, thin, tear- 
stained, trudging along a weary road. Each one 
carried a bundle far too heavy for him and each 
looked unsmilingly out of the frame, though Mrs. 
Morton breathed a sigh of relief when the touching 
scene faded and she knew that there was no longer 
any danger of Dicky’s spoiling the effect by a burst of 
laughter or a genial call to some acquaintance in the 
audience. 

Slowly the curtain fell and the old ladies were lost 
to view. Then the old ladies in front breathed a 
sigh of satisfaction. It had been simply perfect ! 


CHAPTER XI 

^‘sister Susie’s sewing shirts for soldiers” 

W ITH the evening well under way Helen was 
beginning to be relieved of the worry that she 
had not been able to control, but as the time for the 
silhouette approached the Ethels became distinctly 
disturbed. Dicky always was an uncertain element. 
Because he had behaved like an angel child in the 
tableau with the old ladies was no assurance that as 
a pussy cat in the silhouettes he would not raise an 
uproar which would put to shame any backyard 
feline of their acquaintance. 

Dicky’s companions in the animal play were ready 
behind the scenes and their funny costumes were caus- 
ing bursts of suppressed mirth as they danced about 
excitedly. When Dicky finished his tableau he was 
hurried into his maltese coat and by the time that his 
Aunt Louise had played the “Owl and the Pussy Cat” 
and Dorothy had sung it, the blue curtain had been 
lowered, the light behind it turned on, and between 
it and the net curtain in front the dogs and the cats 
and the rabbits frisked happily. In fact the raising 
of the outside curtain caught them tagging each other 
about the stage in a manner that was vastly amusing 
but had nothing to do with the play. 

For there was a little play. The Ethels had made 
it up themselves and it had to do not only with a 
fisher dog who lost his catch to a robber cat but with 


ii6 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


a clever rabbit who was chased by both dogs and 
cats and who took refuge in the rushes on the bank 
of the stream and was passed by because his pur- 
suers mistook the tips of his ears for rushes. Then 
they made signs that, wherever he was, if he would 
come out and join them they should all be friends. 
He came out and they took paws and danced about 
in a circle. Against the dull blue background it 
looked as if the animals were playing in the moon- 
light, jumping and walking on their hindlegs like the 
creatures in the fairy books. The small children in 
the audience were especially pleased with this num- 
ber and when at the end a boy appeared carrying his 
schoolbooks and all the animals fell into line behind 
him and walked off demurely to school it was so like 
what happens at the end of the holidays that they 
burst into renewed clapping. 

The minuet went with the utmost smoothness. 
Doctor Watkins added his violin to the piano’s play- 
ing of the Mozart music from “Don Giovanni” ancf 
the picturesquely dressed figures stepped and bowed 
and courtesied with grace and precision. Helen 
danced with Tom, Margaret with Roger, Ethel 
Brown with James, and Ethel Blue with the new boy, 
George Foster. The girls all wore ruffled skirts 
with paniers elaborately bunched over them, and they 
had their hair powdered. The boys wore knee 
breeches, long-tailed coats, and white wigs. On the 
wall hung an old portrait of a Morton ancestor. A 
spinet stood at one side of the room which the stage 
represented. The whole atmosphere was that of a 
day long gone by. 

After this number was done Doctor Watkins ap- 
peared before the curtain. 


“SISTER SUSIE’S SEWING SHIRTS” 117 

“I am asked by the president of the United Service 
Club,” he said, “to tell you that there will be an inter- 
val of ten minutes between the minuet and the next 
offering of the program. During that time I am' 
going to sing you a song that the English soldiers are 
singing. It isn’t a serious song, for the soldiers are 
hearing enough sad sounds without adding to them. 
I may make some mistakes in singing it — you’ll 
understand why in a moment.” 

At a nod from him, Mrs. Smith broke into the 
opening notes of “Sister Susie’s Sewing Shirts for 
Soldiers,” and by the time the doctor had finished the 
second stanza the audience was humming the chorus. 
“Come on,” he cried. “I did make some mistakes. 
See if you can do better,” and he led the tune for 
the four lines that announced, — 

“Sister Susie’s sewing shirts for soldiers. 

Such skill at sewing shirts our shy young sister Susie 
shows, 

Some soldiers send epistles, say they’d sooner sleep in 
thistles ^ 

Than the saucy, soft, short shirts for soldiers Sister 
Susie sews.” 

Everybody laughed and laughed and tried to sing 
and laughed again. 

When the chorus was over. Doctor Watkins 
dashed into the Allies’ song, “Tipperary,” and fol- 
lowed it by “Deutschland ueber Alles.” Then he 
taught the audience the words of “The Christmas 
Ship” and they quickly caught the air and soon were 
singing, — 

“Hurrah, hurrah for the Christmas Ship 
As it starts across the sea 


ii8 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


With its load of gifts and its greater load 
Of loving sympathy. 

Let’s wave our hats and clap our hands 
As we send it on its trip ; 

May many a heart and home be cheered 
By the gifts in the Christmas Ship.” 

Edward had a good voice and he sang with so 
much spirit that every one enjoyed his unexpected 
addition to the evening’s pleasure. 

A bell behind the scenes announced that “The Pied 
Piper of Hamelin” was ready and the curtain rose on 
the room in the Town Hall of Hamelin in which the 
Corporation held its meetings. Dorothy, whose 
voice was clear and far-reaching, stood just below 
the stage at one side and read the explanation of what 
had been happening in the city. 

Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick, 

By famous Hanover city; 

The river Weser, deep and wide. 
Washes its wall on the southern side; 

A pleasanter spot you never spied; 

But, when begins my ditty. 

Almost five hundred years ago. 

To see the townsfolk suffer so 
From vermin, was a pity. 

Rats ! 

They fought the dogs and killed the cats. 

And bit the babies in the cradles. 

And ate the cheeses out of the vats. 

And licked the soup from the cooks’ own 
ladles. 


“SISTER SUSIE’S SEWING SHIRTS” 119 

Split open the kegs of salted sprats 
Made nests inside men’s Sunday hats, 

And even spoiled the women’s chats 

By drowning their speaking 
With shrieking and squeaking 
In fifty different sharps and flats. 

At last the people In a body 

To the Town Hall came flocking. 

At this point the reading stopped and the action 
began. Roger, dressed as the Mayor in his mother’s 
red flannel kimono banded with white stripes to 
which he had attached tiny black tails to give the 
effect of ermine, stalked In first. He wore a look of 
deep anxiety. Behind him came James and two of 
Roger’s high school friends who represented mem- 
bers of the Corporation. They also were dressed 
In red robes but they did not attempt to equal the 
ermine elegance of the Mayor. 

After the Mayor and Corporation came a body 
of the townspeople. They all appeared thoroughly 
enraged and as the city fathers took their seats at 
the council table in the centre of the room they 
railed at them. 

First Citizen. [Tom, in rough brown jacket 
and baggy knee breeches^ with long brown stockings 
and low shoes. He frowned savagely and growled 
in disgust.] “ ’TIs clear our Mayor’s a noddy!” 

Second Citizen. [George Foster, dressed like 
Tom.] “And as for our Corporation — shocking. 
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 


120 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


For dolts that can’t or won’t determine 
What’s best to rid us of our vermin !” 

Third Citizen. {^Another high school boy. He 
was bent like a withered old man and spoke in a 
squeaky voice.'] 

“You hope because you’re old and obese, 

To find in the furry civic robe ease ?” 

First Citizen. 

“Rouse up, sirs I Give your brains a racking 
To find the remedy we’re lacking. 

Or, sure as fate, we’ll send you packing.” 

The Mayor. 

“For a guilder I’d my ermine gown sell, 

I wish I were a mile hence.” 

First Member of the Corporation. {^James.] 
“It’s easy to bid one rack one’s brain — 

I’m sure my poor head aches again. 

I’ve scratched it so and all in vain.” 

Second Member of the Corporation. 

“Oh, for a trap, a trap, a trap.” 

At this instant came a rap on the door. Helen 
did it, and a cry came from The Mayor. 

“Bless us, what’s that?” 

First Member. 

“Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? 

Anything like the sound of a rat 
Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!” 

The Mayor. 

“Come in!” 


SISTER SUSIE’S SEWING SHIRTS” 121 


In answer to this permission there entered Edward 
Watkins as the Pied Piper. He had dashed around 
to the back and slipped into his coat and Mrs. Emer- 
son had painted his face while the first words of the 
poem were being read. He was tall and thin with 
light hair, yet a swarthy complexion. He wore a 
queer long coat, half yellow and half red and around 
his neck a scarf of red and yellow in stripes to which 
was attached a tiny flute with which his fingers played 
as if he were eager to pipe upon it. He smiled win- 
ningly and the people crowded in the council cham- 
ber whispered, wondering who he was and why his 
attire was so curious. 

First Citizen. 

“It’s as my great-grandsire 

Starting up at the Trump of Doom’s tone. 

Had walked this way from his painted tomb- 
stone.” 

The Pied Piper [^Edward Watkins'] advanced to 
the council table. 

“Please your honors. I’m able 
By means of a secret charm to draw 
All creatures living beneath the sun. 

That creep or swim or fly or run. 

After me so as you never saw I 
And I chiefly use my charm 
On creatures that do people harm. 

The mole and toad and newt and viper; 

And people call me the Pied Piper. 

Yet, poor piper as I am. 

In Tartary I freed the Cham, 


122 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


Last June from his huge swarms of gnats; 

I eased in Asia the Nizam 

Of a monstrous brood of vampire bats : 

And as for what your brain bewilders 

If I can rid your town of rats 

Will you give me a thousand guilders?’’ 

The Mayor and Corporation Together. 
“One? Fifty thousand !” 

Then The Piper walked slowly across the stage, 
erect and smiling, and he piped a strange, simple 
tune on his flute. As he disappeared at one side 
the stage was darkened and at the back appeared a 
picture such as had been used in the tableau of the 
old ladies knitting. The Mayor and the Corpora- 
tion and the townsfolk turned their back to the 
audience and gazed out through this window. 
Across it passed first The Piper still piping, and 
after him a horde of rats. They were pasteboard 
rats and Helen was drawing them across the scene 
with strings, but they made a very good illusion of 
the dancing rats that the poet described; 

Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats; 

Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats. 

As the crowd in the room watched they uttered 
exclamations — “See!” “Look at that one!” 
“How they follow him I” “He’s leading them to the 
river!” “In they go!” “They’re drowning!” 
“Every one of them!” “Let’s ring the bells!” 

With faces of delight the townsfolk left the council 
chamber and from a distance came the muffled ring- 
ing of bells of joy. 


“SISTER SUSIE’S SEWING SHIRTS” 123 


The Mayor addressed them as they passed out; 
“Go and get long poles, 

Poke out the nests and block up the holes ! 
Consult with carpenters and builders, 

And leave in our town not even a trace 
Of the rats.” 

The Piper entered suddenly. “First, if you 
please, my thousand guilders !” 

First Member of the Corporation. “A thou- 
sand guilders !” 

The other members of the Corporation shook 
their heads in solemn refusal. 

The Mayor. 

“Our business was done at the river’s brink; 

We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, 

And what’s dead can’t come to life, I think.” 

Second Member of the Corporation. 

“So, friend, we’re not the folks to shrink 
From the duty of giving you something for 
drink. 

And a matter of money to put in your poke — ” 
The Mayor. 

“But as for the guilders, what we spoke 
Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.” 

First Member. 

“Besides, our losses have made us thrifty. 

A thousand guilders ! Come, take fifty !” 

The Piper [^looking serious ^ cried '] ; 

“No trifling! I can’t wait, beside! 


124 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

I’ve promised to visit by dinner time 
Bagdat, and accept the prime 
Of the Head-Cook’s pottage, all he’s rich in, 
For having left in the Caliph’s kitchen. 

Of a nest of scorpions no survivor; 

With him I proved no bargain-driver. 

With you, don’t think I’ll bate a stiver ! 

And folks who put me in a passion 
May find me pipe after another fashion.” 

The Mayor. 

“How? D’ye think I brook 
Being worse treated than a Cook? 

Insulted by a lazy ribald 

With idle pipe and vesture piebald? 

You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, 
Blow your pipe there till you burst !” 

Once more the Piper laid the pipe against his lips 
and blew the strange, simple tune, and from both 
sides of the stage there came rushing in children of 
all sizes, boys and girls, flaxen-haired and dark- 
haired, blue-eyed and brown-eyed. They crowded 
around him and as he slowly passed off the stage 
they followed him, dancing and waving their hands 
and with never a look behind them. 

Once more the window at the back opened and 
across it went the Piper, still fluting, though now he 
could not be heard by the audience ; and behind him 
still danced the children, blind to the gestures of 
the Mayor and Corporation who stretched out their 
arms, beseeching them to return. Terrified, the city 
fathers made known by gestures of despair that they 
feared the Piper was leading the children to the river 
where they would meet the fate of the rats. 


SISTER SUSIE’S SEWING SHIRTS’ 


125 


Of a sudden they seemed relieved and the picture 
showed the throng passing out of sight into a cavern 
on the mountain. Then limped upon the stage a 
lame boy who had not been able to dance all the 
way with the children and so was shut out when the 
mountain opened and swallowed them up. The 
Corporation crowded around him and heard him 
say: 

Lame Boy. 

“It’s dull in our town since my playmates left! 

I can’t forget that I’m bereft 
Of all the pleasant sights they see, 

Which the Piper also promised me. 

For he led us, he said, to a joyous land. 
Joining the town and just at hand. 

Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew 
And flowers put forth a fairer hue. 

And everything was strange and new; 

The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, 
And their dogs outran our fallow deer. 

And honey bees had lost their stings. 

And horses were born with eagles’ wings; 

And just as I became assured 
My lame foot would be speedily cured. 

The music stopped and I stood still. 

And found myself outside the hill. 

Left alone against my will. 

To go now limping as before. 

And never hear of that country more!” 

The Mayor and Corporation were grouped 
around the Lame Boy listening and the citizens at 
the back leaned forward so as to hear every word. 
Almost in tears the boy limped from the stage fol- 


126 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


lowed slowly by Mayor and Corporation and citizens 
while Dorothy’s clear voice took up the tale. 

“Alas, alas for Hamelin! 

There came into many a burgher’s pate 
A text which says that heaven’s gate 
Opes to the rich at as easy rate 
As the needle’s eye takes a camel in ! 

The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, 

To offer the Piper by word or mouth 

Wherever it was men’s lot to find him. 

Silver and gold to his heart’s content. 

If he’d only return the way he went. 

And bring the children behind him. 

But when they saw ’twas a lost endeavor. 

And Piper and dancers were gone forever, 

They made a decree that lawyers never 
Should think their records dated duly 
If, after the day of the month and year. 

These words did not as well appear, 

‘And so long after what happened here 
On the Twenty-second of July, 

Thirteen hundred and seventy-six:’ 

And the better in memory to fix 
The place of the children’s last retreat. 

They called it the Pied Piper’s Street — 

Where any one playing on pipe or tabor 
Was sure for the future to lose his labor. 

Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern 

To shock with mirth a street so solemn : 

But opposite the place of the cavern 
They wrote the story on a column, 

And on the great church window painted 
The same, to make the world acquainted 
How their children were stolen away. 


“SISTER SUSIE’S SEWING SHIRTS’ 127 


And there it stands to this very day. 

And I must not omit to say 

That in Transylvania there’s a tribe 

Of alien people who ascribe 

The outlandish ways and dress 

On which their neighbors lay such stress, 

To their fathers and mothers having risen 

Out of some subterraneous prison 

Into which they were trepanned 

Long time ago in a mighty band 

Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land. 

But how or why, they don’t understand.” 

At the conclusion of the play, after hearty ap- 
plause, the audience broke again into the song of the 
Christmas Ship : 

Hurrah, hurrah for the Christmas Ship 
As it starts across the sea 

With its load of gifts and its greater load 
Of loving sympathy. 

Let’s wave our hat ' and clap our hands 
As we send it on its trip; 

May many a heart and home be cheered 
By the gifts in the Christmas Ship. 

“That’s as good a show as if it had been put on by 
grown-ups,” declared a New Yorker who had come 
out with Doctor Watkins. “It’s hard to believe that 
those kids have done it all themselves.” 

He spoke to a stranger beside him as they filed 
out to the music of a merry march played by Mrs. 
Smith. 

“My boy was among them,” replied the Rosemont 
man proudly, “but I don’t mind saying I think they’re 
winners !” 


128 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


That seemed to be every one’s opinion. As for 
the old ladies — the evening was such an event to them 
that they felt just a trifle uncertain that they had not 
been transported by some magic means to far away 
Hamelin town. 

“I don’t believe I missed a word,” said the blind 
old lady as the horses toiled slowly up the hill to the 
Home. 

“We’ll tell you every scene so you’ll know how the 
words fit in,” promised the old lady in the wheel 
chair. 

“It will be something to talk about when we’re 
knitting,” chuckled the lame old lady brightly, and 
they all hummed gently, 

“Hurrah, hurrah for the Christmas Ship 
As it starts across the sea.” 


CHAPTER XII 

JAMES CUTS CORNERS 
RY creditable, very creditable indeed,” re- 



V peated Doctor Hancock as he and James 
stepped into their car to return to Glen Point after 
packing the old ladies into the wagonette. 

Mrs. Hancock and Margaret had gone home by 
trolley because the doctor had to make a professional 
call on the way. The moon lighted the road bril- 
liantly and the machine flew along smoothly over the 
even surface. 

“This is about as near flying as a fellow can get 
and still be only two feet from the earth,” said 
James. 

James was quiet and almost too serious for a boy 
of his age but he had one passion that sometimes got 
the better of the prudence which he inherited from 
the Scottish ancestor about whom Roger was always 
joking him. 

That passion was for speed. When he was a 
very small child he had made it his habit to descend 
the stairs by way of the rail at the infinite risk of his 
neck. Once he had run his head through the slats 
of a chicken coop into which an over-swift hopmobile 
had thrown him. On roller skates his accidents had 
been beyond counting because his calculations of 
distance often seemed not to work out harmoniously 
with his velocity. It was because Doctor Hancock 
thought that if the boy had the responsibility for his 
25 ^ 129 


130 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

father’s machine and for other people’s bones he 
would learn to exercise proper care, that he had con- 
sented to let him become his chauffeur. The plan 
had seemed to work well, but once in a while the 
desire to fly got the better of James’s discretion. 

“Here’s where the car gets ahead of the aero- 
plane,” said the doctor. “An aviator would find it 
dangerous work to skim along only two feet above 
ground.” 

“I did want to go up with that airman at Chau- 
tauqua last summer!” cried James. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Cost too much. Twenty-five plunks.” 

The doctor whistled. 

“Flying high always costs,” he said meditatively. 

“The Ethels went up. They haven’t done talk- 
ing about it yet. They named the man’s machine, 
so he gave them a ride.” 

“Good work! Look out for these corners, now. 
When you’ve studied physics a bit longer you’ll learn 
why it is that a speeding body can’t change its direc- 
tion at an angle of ninety degrees and maintain its 
equilibrium unless it decreases its speed.” 

James thought this over for a while. 

“In other words, slow up going round corners,” 
he translated, “and later I’ll learn why.” 

“Words to that effect,” replied the doctor mildly. 

“Here’s a good straight bit,” exclaimed James. 
“You don’t care if I let her out, do you? There’s 
nothing in sight.” 

“Watch that cross road.” 

“Yes, sir. Isn’t this moon great!” murmured 
James under his breath, excited by the brilliant light 
and the cool air and the swift motion. 


JAMES CUTS CORNERS 13 1 

“Always keep your eyes open for these heavy 
shadows that the moon casts,” directed Doctor Han- 
cock. “Sometimes they’re deceptive.” 

“I’ll keep in the middle of the road and then the 
bugaboo in the shadow can see us even if I can’t see 
him,” laughed James, the moonlight in his eyes and 
the rush of wind in his ears. 

“There’s something moving there! LOOK 
OUT I” shouted the doctor as a cow strolled slowly 
out from behind a tree and chewed a meditative cud 
right across their path. James made a swift, abrupt 
curve, and did not touch her. 

“That was a close one,” he whispered, his hands 
shaking on the wheel. 

“It hasn’t worried her any,” reported his father, 
looking back. “She hasn’t budged and she’s still 
chewing. You did that very well, son. It was a 
difficult situation.” 

James flushed warmly. His father was not a. man 
to give praise often so that every word of com- 
mendation from him was doubly valued by his chil- 
dren. 

“Thank you. I shouldn’t like to have it happen 
every day,” James confessed. 

They sped on in silence after the cow episode, the 
boy glad of the chance to steady his nerves in the 
quiet, the doctor thinking of the case he was to visit 
in a few minutes. 

The patient’s house stood on the edge of Glen 
Point, and James sat in the car resting and watching 
the machines of the townspeople passing by with gay 
parties out to enjoy the moonlight. Some, like them- 
selves, had been to Rosemont, and some of his 
schoolmates waved to him as they passed. 


132 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“It was a great show, old man,” more than one 
boy shouted to him. 

It had been a good show. He knew it and he was 
glad that he belonged k) a club that really amounted 
to something. They did things well and they didn’t 
do them well just to show off or to get praise — they 
had a good purpose behind. He was still thinking 
about it when his father came out. Doctor Han- 
cock did not talk about his cases, but James had 
learned that silence meant that there was need for 
serious thought and that the doctor was in no mood 
to enter into conversation. When he came out 
laughing, however, and jumped into the car with a 
care-free jest, as happened now, James knew that all 
was going well. 

“Now, home, boy,” he directed. “Stop at the 
drug store an instant.” 

He gave some directions to a clerk who hurried 
out to them and then they drove on. The moon- 
light sifted through the trees and flickered on the 
road. A cool breeze stimulated James’s skin to a 
shiver. On they went, faster and faster. He’d 
had a mighty good time all the evening, James 
thought, and Father was a crackerjack. 

“LOOK OUT, boy,” his father’s voice rang 
through his thoughts. The car struck the curb with 
a shock that loosened his grasp on the wheel and 
tossed him into the air. As he flew up he tried to 
say, “I cut the corner too close that time,” but he 
never knew whether he said it or not, for his voice 
seemed to fail him and his father could not recall 
hearing such a remark. 

It was quite an hour later when he came to him- 
self. To his amazement he found himself in his 


JAMES CUTS CORNERS 


133 


own room. The light was shaded, his mother with 
tears still filling her eyes was beside him, and his 
father and a young man whom he recognized as the 
new doctor who had just come to Glen Point, were 
putting away instruments. He tried to move in the 
bed and found that his leg was extraordinarily heavy. 

“Did I bust my leg?” he inquired briefly. 

“You did,” returned his father with equal brevity. 

“Weren’t you hurt?” 

“A scratch on the forehead, that’s all. Doctor 
Hanson is going to patch me up now.” 

The two physicians left the room and James did 
not know until long after that the scratch required 
several stitches to mend. 

His illness was a severe trial to James. His Scot- 
tish blood taught him that his punishment fitted his 
crime — ^that he was hurt as a direct result of doing 
what he knew was likely to bring that result. He 
said to himself that he was going to take his punish- 
ment like a man. But oh, the days were long! 
The Glen Point boys came in when they thought of 
it — there was some one almost every day — ^but the 
Indian Summer was unusually prolonged and won- 
derfully beautiful this year, and it was more than 
any one could ask in reason that the boys should give 
up outdoors to stay with him. Roger and Helen 
and the Ethels and Dorothy came over from Rose- 
mont when they could, but their daily work had to be 
done and they had only a few minutes to stay after 
the long trolley trip. 

“We must think up something for James to do,” 
Mrs. Hancock told Margaret. “He’s tired of read- 
ing. He can use his hands. Hasn’t your Service 
Club something that he can work on here?” Mar- 


134 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

garet thought it had, and the result of the conversa- 
tion was that Mrs. Hancock went to Rosemont on an 
afternoon car. The Ethels took her to Mrs. Smith’s 
and Dorothy showed her the accumulation for the 
Christmas Ship that already was making a good 
showing in the attic devoted to the work. 

“These bundles in the packing cases are all finished 
and ready for their final wrappings,” Dorothy ex- 
plained. “There are dresses and wrappers and 
sacques and sweaters and all sorts of warm clothing 
like that.” 

“And you girls did almost all of it!” exclaimed 
Mrs. Hancock. 

“Helen and Margaret made most of those,” said 
Ethel Brown. “In this box are the knitted articles 
that are coming in every day now. Most of them 
are from the Old Ladies’ Home so far, but every 
once in a while somebody else stops and leaves some- 
thing. We girls don’t knit much; it seems to go so 
slowly.” 

“I brought one pair of wristers with me and I have 
another pair almost done,” said Mrs. Hancock. 
“What are these?” 

“Those are the boxes the boys have been pasting,” 
said Ethel Blue, picking up one of them. “They 
began with the large plain ones first — the real pack- 
ing boxes.” 

“Here are some that are large enough for a 
dress.” 

“We’ve gathered all the old boxes we could find in 
our house or in our friends’ houses — Margaret must 
have hunted in your attic for she brought over some 
a fortnight ago. None of the things we are making 
will require a box as large as the tailors send out. 


JAMES CUTS CORNERS 


135 

so we took those boxes and the broken ones that we 
found and made them over.” 

“That must have taken a great deal of time.” 

“The boys paste pretty fast now. Some of them 
they made to lock together. They didn’t need any- 
thing but cutting. They got that idea from a tai- 
lor’s box that Roger found.” 

Mrs. Hancock examined the flat pasteboard cut 
so that the corners would interlock. 

■‘The old boxes they cut down. That saves buy- 
ing new pasteboard. And they’ve covered some of 
the battered looking old ones with fresh paper so 
they look as good as new — ” 

“And a great deal prettier,” said Dorothy. 

“We get wall paper at ten cents a roll for the 
covering,” said Ethel Blue. “They have an old- 
fashioned air that’s attractive. Aunt Marion says,” 
and she held up a box covered with wild roses. 

“They’re lovely! And they must have cost you 
almost nothing.” 

“We did these when our treasury was very low. 
Now we’ve got almost fifty dollars that we cleared 
from our entertainment after we paid all our bills 
and repaid Mother what we owed her,” explained 
Ethel Brown, “so now the boys can get some fresh 
cardboard and some chintz and cretonne and make 
some real beauties.” 

“Is this what James has been doing on Saturdays ?” 

“James is the best paster of all, he’s so careful. 
He always makes his corners as neat as pins. Some- 
times the other boys are careless.” 

“Then I don’t see why James couldn’t do some of 
this at home now. He has altogether too much time 
on his hands.” 


136 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“Can’t he study yet?” 

“He learns his lessons but his father doesn’t want 
him to go to school for at least a fortnight and per- 
haps not then, so he has long hours with nothing tq 
do except read and it isn’t good for him to do tha< 
all the time.” 

“We’ve got a lot of ideas for pasting that we’^ 
been waiting for time and cash to put into operation/” 
said Helen who had come in in time to hear M/s. 
Hancock’s complaint. “If James could have an ^Id 
table that you didn’t mind his getting sticky, next to 
his wheel chair he could do a quantity of things that 
we want very much, and it would help, oh, tremen- 
dously.” 

“Tell me about them,” and Mrs. Hancock sat 
down at once to receive her instructions. Helen 
brought a sheet of paper and made a list of materials 
to be bought and drew some of the articles over 
which she thought that James might be puzzled. 

“Some of these ideas we got from magazines,” 
she said, “and some people told us and some we in- 
vented ourselves. They aren’t any of them very 
large.” 

“James will like that. It is more fun to turn off a 
number of articles. When he has an array stand- 
ing on his table you must all go over to Glen Point 
and see them.” 

“We thought that perhaps you’d let us have a 
meeting of the U. S. C. at your house one Saturday 
afternoon, and we could take over some of our work 
to show James and we could see his, and we could 
work while we were there,” suggested Helen diffi- 
dently. 


JAMES CUTS CORNERS 137 

“You’re as good as gold to think of it! It will 
be the greatest pleasure to James. Shall we say this 
next Saturday?” 

The girls agreed that that would be a good time, 
and Mrs. Hancock went home laden with materials 
for James’s pasting operations and bearing the pleas- 
ant news of the coming of the Club to meet with him. 

Long before the hour at which they were expected 
James rolled himself to the window to wait for their 
coming. Now that the leaves were off the trees he 
could just see the car stop at the end of the street 
and he watched eagerly for the flock of young people 
to run toward the house. It seemed an interminable 
wait, yet the car on which they had promised to come 
was not a minute late when at last it halted and its 
eager passengers stepped off. James could see the 
Ethels leading the procession, waving their hands 
toward the window at which they knew he must be, 
although they could not see him until they came much 
nearer. 

Dorothy followed them not far behind, and Roger 
and Helen brought up the rear. Every one of them 
was laden with parcels of the strangest shapes. 

“I know the conductor thought we were Santa 
Claus’s own children,” laughed Ethel Blue as they 
all shook hands with the invalid and inquired after 
his leg. 

“We’ve come up to have a pasting bee,” said 
Helen, “and we all have ideas for you to carry out.” 

“So have we,” cried a new voice at the door, and 
Della and Tom came in, also laden with parcels and 
also bubbling with pleasure at seeing James so well 
again. 


138 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“We shall need quantities of smallish presents that 
you can manage here at your table just splendidly,” 
explained Ethel Brown. 

“And dozens of wrappings of various kinds that 
you can make, too.” 

“Great and glorious,” beamed James. “ ‘Lay on, 
Macduff.’ I’ll absorb every piece of information 
you give me, like a wet sponge.” 

“Let’s do things in shipshape fashion,” directed 
Roger. “What do you say to boxes first? We’ll 
lay out here our patterns, and materials.” 

“Let’s make one apiece of everything,” cried 
Dorothy, “and leave them all for James to copy.” 

“And we can open the other bundles afterwards,” 
said Della, “then those materials won’t get mixed up 
with the box materials.” 

“Save the papers and strings,” advised Ethel 
Brown. “We’re going to need a fearful amount of 
both when wrapping time comes.” 

“The secretary has had a letter from Mademoi- 
selle,” Helen Informed the Invalid. 

“Where from?” James was aflame with Interest. 

“She’s in Belgium; you know she said she was 
going to try to be sent there. She doesn’t mention 
the name of the town, but she’s near enough to the 
front for wounded to be brought in from the field.” 

“And she can hear the artillery booming all the 
time,” contributed Ethel Blue. 

“And one day she went out right on to the firing 
line to give first aid.” 

“Think of that I Our little teacher I” 

“She wasn’t given those black eyes for nothing! 
She’s game right through!” laughed Helen. 


CHAPTER XIII 

PASTING 


‘‘OOME of these ideas will be more appropriate 
for Christmas gifts here in America than for 
our war orphans, it seems to me,” said Helen, “but 
we may as well make a lot of everything because we’ll 
be doing some Christmas work as a club and nothing 
will be lost.” 

“Tell me what they are and I can do them last,” 
said James. 

“And we can put them on a shelf in the club attic 
as models,” suggested Dorothy. 

“Here’s an example,” said Helen, taking up a 
pasteboard cylinder. “This is a mailing tube — you 
know those mailing tubes that you can buy all made, 
of different sizes. We’ve brought down a lot of 
them to-day. Take this fat one, for instance, and 
cut it off about three inches down. Then cover it 
with chintz or cretonne or flowered paper or holly 
paper.” 

“Line it with the paper, too, I should say,” com- 
mented James, picking up the pieces that Helen cut 
off. 

“Yes, indeed. Cover two round pieces and fit one 
of them into the bottom and fasten the other on for 
a cover with a ribbon hinge, and there you have a 
box for string, or rubber bands for somebody’s desk.” 

“O.K. for rubber bands,” agreed Roger, “but for 
139 


140 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

string it would be better to make a hole in the cover 
and let the cord run up through.” 



String Box made from a Mailing Tube 


“How would you keep the cover from flopping up 
and down when you pulled the string?” 

“Here’s one very simple way. You know those 
fasteners that stationers sell to keep papers to- 
gether? They have a brass head and two legs and 


PASTING 


141 

when you’ve pushed the legs through the papers you 
press them apart and they can’t pull out. One of 
those will do very well as a knob to go on the box 
part, and a loop of gold or silver cord or of ribbon 
can be pasted or tied on to the cover.” 

“If you didn’t care whether it was ever used again 
you could put in the ball of twine with its end stick- 
ing through and then paste a band of paper around 
the joining of the top and the box. It would be 
pretty as long as the twine lasted.” 

“It would be a simple matter for the person who 
became its proud possessor to paste on another strip 
of paper when he had put in his new ball of twine.” 

“Any way you fix it,” went on Helen, “there you 
have the general method of making round boxes 
from these mailing tubes.” 

“And you can use round boxes for a dozen pur- 
poses,” said Margaret; “for candy and all the 
goodies we’re going to send the orphans.” 

“Are you sure they’ll keep?” asked careful James. 

“Ethel Brown asked the domestic science teacher 
at school about that, and she’s going to give her 
receipts for cookies and candies that will last at least 
six weeks. That will be long enough for the Christ- 
mas Ship to go over and to make the rounds of the 
ports where it is to distribute presents.” 

“Of course we’ll make the eatables at the last 
minute,” said Dorothy, “and we’ll pack them so as 
to keep the air out as much as possible.” 

“Give that flour paste a good boiling,” Helen 
called after Margaret as she left the room to prepare 
it. 

“And don’t forget the oil of cloves to keep it 
sweet,” added Ethel Blue. 


142 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“These round boxes will be especially good for the 
cookies,” said Ethel Brown, “though the string box 
would have to go to Father. A string box isn’t 
especially suitable for an orphan.” 

“If you split these mailing tubes lengthwise and 
line them inside you get some pretty shapes,” went on 
Helen. 

“Rather shallow,” commented Della. 

“If you split them just in halves they are, but you 
don’t have to do that. Split them a little above the 
middle and then the cover will be shallower than the 
box part.” 

“Right-0,” nodded Roger. 

“Then you line them and arrange the fastening 
and hinges just as you described for the string box?” 
asked James. 

“Exactly the same. Another way of fastening 
them is by making little chintz straps and putting 
glove snappers on them.” 

“I don’t see why you couldn’t put ribbons into both 
cover and box part and tie them together.” 

“You could.” 

“You can use these split open ones for a manicure 
set or a brush and comb box for travelling.” 

“Or a handkerchief box.” 

“If you get tubes of different sizes and used mili- 
tary hair brushes you could make a box for a man, 
with a cover that slipped over for a long way,” said 
Ethel Blue. “It would be just like the leather ones.” 

“You make one of those for Uncle Richard for 
Christmas,” advised Ethel Brown. “I rather think 
the orphans aren’t keen on military brushes.” 

“Oh, I’m just talking out any ideas that come 
along. As Helen suggested, an idea is always useful 


PASTING 


143 


some time or other even if it won’t do for to-day’s 
orphans.” 

“I saw a dandy box the other day that we might 
have put into Mademoiselle’s kit,” said Roger. 
“It’s a good thing to remember for some other 
traveller.” 

“Describe,” commanded James. 

“I don’t think these round boxes would be as con- 
venient for it as a square or oblong one. It had a 
ball of string and a tube of paste and a pair of small 
scissors, and tags of different sizes and rubber bands 
and labels with gum on the back.” 

“That’s great for a desk top,” said Della. “I be- 
lieve I’ll make one for Father for his birthday,” and 
she nodded toward Tom who nodded back approv- 
ingly. 

“A big blotter case is another desk gift. The 
back is of very stiff cardboard and the corners are of 
chintz or leather. The blotters are slipped under 
the corners and are kept flat by them,” continued 
Roger, who had noticed them because of their leather 
corners. 

“A lot of small blotters tied together are easy to 
put up,” contributed Dorothy. “You can have 
twelve, if you want to, and paste a calendar for a 
month on to each one.” 

“I think v/e ought to make those plain boxes the 
boys have made for the dresses a little prettier. 
Can’t we ornament them in some way?” asked Ethel 
Blue. 

“The made-over ones are all covered with fancy 
paper you remember,” said Tom. 

“I was thinking of the plain ones that are ‘neat 
but not gaudy.’ How can we make them ‘gaudy’ ?’^ 


144 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“Christmas seals are about as easy a decoration 
as you can get,” Tom suggested. 

“Pretty, too. Those small seals, you mean, that 
you put on letters. A Santa Claus or a Christmas 
tree or a poinsettia would look pretty on the smaller 
sized boxes.” 

“It would take a lot of them to show much on the 
larger ones, and that would make them rather ex- 
pensive. Can’t we think up something cheaper?” 
asked the treasurer. 

“I’m daffy over wall paper,” cried Dorothy. “I 
went with Mother to pick out some for one of our 
rooms the other day and the man showed us such 
beauties — they were like paintings.” 

“And cost like paintings, too,” growled James feel- 
ingly. 

“Some of them did,” admitted Dorothy. “But I 
asked him if he didn’t have remnants sometimes. 
He laughed and said they didn’t call them remnants 
but he said they did have torn pieces and for ten cents 
he gave me a regular armful. Just look at these 
beauties.” 

She held up for the others’ Inspection some pieces 
of paper with lovely flower designs upon them. 

“But those bits aren’t big enough to cover a big 
box and the patterns are too large to show except on 
a big box,” objected Margaret who had come back 
with the paste. 

“Here’s where they’re just the thing for decora- 
tion of the plain boxes. Cut out this perfectly dar- 
ling wistaria — so. Could you find anything more 
graceful than that? You’d have to be an artist to 
do anything so good. Paste that sweeping, droop- 
ing vine with its lovely cluster of blossoms on to the 


PASTING 145 

top of one of the largest boxes and that’s plenty of 
decoration.” 

Dorothy waved her vine in one hand and her 
scissors in the other and the rest became infected 
with her enthusiasm, for the scraps of paper that 
she had brought were exquisite in themselves and 
admirable for the purpose she suggested. 

“Good for Dorothy!” hurrahed James. “Any- 
body else got any ideas on this decoration need?” 



“I have,” came meekly from Ethel Brown. “It 
isn’t very novel but it will work, and it will save 
money and it’s easy.” 

“Trot her forth,” commanded Roger. 

“It’s silhouettes.” 

Silence greeted this suggestion. 

“They’re not awfully easy to do,” said Helen 
doubtfully. 

“Not when you make them out of black paper, 
and you have to draw on the pattern or trace it on 
and you can hardly see the lines and you get all fussed 
up over it,” acknowledged Ethel. “I’ve tried that 
way and I almost came to the conclusion that it wasn’t 
worth the trouble I put into it unless you happened 
to be a person who can cut them right out without 
drawing them first.” 

26 


146 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“I saw a man do that at a bazar once/’ said 
Della. “It was wonderful. He illustrated Cin- 
derella. He cut out a coach and tiny horses and the 
old fairy without drawing anything at all before- 
hand.” 

“Nothing doing here,” Tom pushed away an 
imaginary offer of scissors and black paper. 

“Here’s where my grand idea comes in,” insisted 
Ethel Brown. “My idea is to cut out of the maga- 
zines any figures that please you.” 

“Figures with action would be fun,” suggested 
Roger. 

“They’d be prettiest, too. You’ll find them in the 
advertising pages as well as in the stories. Paste 
them on to your box or whatever you want to deco- 
rate, and then go over them with black oil paint.” 

“Good for old Ethel Brown!” applauded her 
brother. “I didn’t think you had it in you, child! 
Have you ever tried it?” 

“Yes, sir, I have. I knew I’d probably meet with 
objections from an unimaginative person like you, 
so I decorated this cover and brought it along as a 
sample.” 

It proved to be an idea as dashing as it was simple. 
Ethel Brown had selected a girl rolling a hoop. A 
dog, cut from another page, was bounding beside 
her. Some delicate foliage at one side hinted at a 
landscape. 

“Wasn’t it hard not to let the black run over the 
edges of the picture?” asked Della. 

“Yes, you have to keep your wits about you all 
the time. But then you have to do that any way if 
you want what you’re making to amount to anything, 
so that doesn’t count.” 


PASTING 


147 


“That’s a capital addition, that suggestion of 
ground that you made with a whisk or two of the 
brush.” 

“Just a few lines seem to give the child something 
to stand on.” 

“These plans for decoration look especially good 
to me,” said practical James, “because there’s nothing 
to stick up on them. They’ll pack easily and that’s 
what we must have for our purpose.” 

“That’s true,” agreed Helen. “For doing up 
presents that don’t have to travel it’s pretty to cut 
petals of red poinsettia and twist them with wire and 
make a flower that you can tuck in under the string 
that you tie the parcel with — ” 

“Or a bit of holly. Holly is easily made out of 
green crepe paper or tissue paper,” cried Della. 

“But as James says, none of the boxes for the 
orphans can have stick-ups or they’ll look like mashed 
potatoes when they reach the other side.” 

“We’ll stow away ,the poinsettia idea for home 
presents then,” said Margaret. “What we want 
from James, however, is a lot of boxes of any and 
every size that he can squeeze out.” 

“No scraps thrown away, old man,” decreed Tom, 
“for even a cube of an inch each way will hold a few 
sweeties.” 

“Orders received and committed to memory,” 
acknowledged the invalid, saluting. 

“By the way, I learned an awfully interesting thing 
to-day,” said Helen. 

“Name it,” commanded Roger, busy with knife 
and pastepot making one of the twine and tag boxes 
that he had described. 

“I’ll tell you while we each make one of the things 


148 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

we’ve been talking about so that we can leave them 
for patterns with James.” 

Dorothy had already set about applying her wis- 
taria vine to the cover of a box whose body Tom 
was putting together. Ethel Blue was making a 
string box from a mailing tube, covering it with a 
scrap of chintz with a very small design; Ethel Brown 
was hunting in an old magazine for figures suitable 
for making silhouettes; James was writing in a note- 
book the various hints that had been bestowed upon 
him so generously that he feared his memory would 
not hold them all without help ; Helen and Della were 
measuring and cutting some cotton cloth that was to 
be used in the gifts that Della was eager to tell about. 

“By the time Helen has told her tale I’ll be ready 
to explain my gift idea,” she said. 

“Go on, then, Helen,” urged James, “I’m ready 
to ‘start something’ myself, in a minute.” 

“You and Margaret have heard us talk about our 
German teacher?” 

“We’ve seen her,” said Margaret. “She was at 
our entertainment.” 

“So she was. I remember, she and her mother 
sat right behind the old ladies from the Home.” 

“And they knitted for the soldiers whenever the 
lights were up.” 

“I guess Mrs. Hindenburg knitted when the lights 
were off, too,” said Helen. “I’ve seen her knitting 
with her eyes shut.” 

“She sent in some more wristers for the orphans 
the other day,” said Dorothy. “She has made seven 
pairs so far, and three scarfs and two little sweaters.” 

“Some knitter,” announced Roger. 

“Fraulein knits all the time, too, but she says she 


PASTING 


149 


can’t keep up with her mother. This is what I 
wanted to tell you — you remember when Roger first 
went there she told him that Fraulein’s betrothed was 
in the German army. Well, yesterday she told us 
who he is.” 

“Is it all right for you to tell us?” warned Roger. 

“It’s no secret. She said that the engagement was 
to have been announced as soon as he got back from 
Germany and that many people knew it already.” 

“Is he an American German?” 

“It’s our own Mr. Schuler.” 

Roger gave a whistle of surprise; the Ethels cried 
out in wonder, and the Hancocks and the Watkinses 
who did not know many Rosemont people, waited for 
the explanation. 

“Mr. Schuler was the singing teacher in the high 
school year before last and last year,” explained 
Helen. “Last spring he had to go back to Germany 
in May so he was there when the army was mobilized 
and went right to the front.” 

“It does come near home when you actually know 
a soldier fighting in the German army and a nurse in 
a hospital on the Allies’ side,” said Roger thought- 
fully. 

“It makes it a lot more exciting to know who Frau- 
lein’s betrothed is.” 

“Does she speak of him?” asked Margaret. 

“She talked about him very freely yesterday after 
her mother mentioned his name.” 

“I suppose she didn’t want the high school kids 
gossiping about him,” observed Roger. 

“As we are,” interposed James. 

“We aren’t gossiping,” defended Helen. “She 
looks on the Club members as her special friends — 


150 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

she said so. She knows we wouldn’t go round at 
school making a nine days’ wonder of it. She knows 
we’re fond of her.” 

“We are,” agreed Roger. “She’s a corker. I 
wonder we didn’t think of its being Mr. Schuler.” 

“Her mother always mentioned him as ‘my daugh- 
ter’s betrothed’; and Fraulein yesterday kept saying 
‘my betrothed.’ We might have gone on in igno- 
rance for a long time if Mrs. Hindenburg hadn’t let 
it slip out yesterday.” 

“Well, I hope he’ll come through with all his legs 
and arms uninjured,” said Roger. “I hope it for 
Fraulein’s sake, and for his, too. He’s a bully sing- 
ing teacher.” 

“Has she heard from him since the war began?” 

“Several times, but not for a month now, and she’s 
about crazy with anxiety. He was in Belgium when 
he got the last letter through and of course that 
means that he has been in the very thick of it all.” 

“Poor Fraulein!” sighed Ethel Blue, and the 
others nodded seriously over their work. 


CHAPTER XIV 
James’s afternoon party 

T OW are you ready to take in all the difficul- 
ties of my art object?” asked Della. 

“Trot her out,” implored James. 

“It’s picture books.” 

A distinct sniff went over the assembly, only kept 
in check by a desire to be polite. 

“There can’t be anything awfully new about pic- 
ture books,” said Tom. 

“Especially cloth picture books. You and Helen 
have been cutting out cambric for cloth picture 
books,” accused Ethel Brown. 

“Della has been making some variations, though.” 
Helen came to Della’s rescue. “She’s made some 
with the leaves all one color, pink or blue ; and here’s 
another one with a variety — two pages light pink, 
and the next two pages pale green.” 

Ethel Brown cast a more interested eye toward 
the picture book display. 

“How do you sew them together?” she asked. 

“You can do it on the machine and let it go at 
that. In fact, that’s the best plan even if you go on 
to add some decoration of feather-stitching or cat- 
stitching. The machine stitching makes it firmer.” 

“Is there an interlining?” 

“I tried them with and without an interlining. I 
don’t think an interlining is necessary. The two 
thicknesses of cambric are all you need.” 


152 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“Dicky has a cloth book with just one thickness 
for each page,” said Ethel Brown. 

“But that’s made of very heavy cotton,” explained 
Helen. 

“You cut your cambric like a sheet of note- 
paper,” said Della. 

“Haven’t my lessons on scientific management 
soaked in better than that?” demanded Roger. “If 
you want to save time you cut just as many sheets of 
note-paper, so to speak, as your scissors will go 
through.” 

“Certainly,” retorted Della with dignity. “I 
took it for granted that the members of the U. S. C. 
had learned that. Put two sheets of this cambric 
note-paper together flat and stitch them. That 
makes four pages to paste on, you see. You can 
make your book any size you want to and have just 
as many pages as you need to tell your story on.” 

“Story? What story?” asked Ethel Blue, inter- 
estedly. 

“Aha! I thought you’d wake up!” laughed 
Della. “Here, my children, is where my book dif- 
fers from most of the cloth picture books that you 
ever saw. My books aren’t careless collections of 
pictures, with no relation to each other. Here’s a 
cat book, for instance. Not just every-day cats, 
though I’ve put in lots of cats and some kodaks of 
my own cat. There are pictures of the big cats — 
lions and tigers — and I’ve put in some scenery so 
that the child who gets this book will have an idea 
of what sort of country the beasts really live in.” 

“It’s a natural history book,” declared James. 

“Partly. But it winds up with ‘The True Story 
of Thomas’s Nine Lives.’ ” 


JAMES’S AFTERNOON PARTY 153 

“The kid It Is going to won’t know English,” ob- 
jected Roger. 

“Oh, I haven’t written It out. It’s just told In 
pictures with i, 2, 3, through 9 at the head of each 
page. They’ll understand.” 

“Do you see what an opportunity the different col- 
ored cambric gives?” said Helen. “Sometimes 
Della uses colored pictures or she paints them, and 
then she makes the background harmonize with the 
coloring of the figures.” 

“Why couldn’t you make a whole book of my sil- 
houettes?” demanded Ethel Brown. 

“Bully!” commended James. 

“You can work out all sorts of topics In these 
books, you see,” Della went on. “There are all the 
fairy stories to Illustrate and ‘Red Riding Hood,’ 
and the ‘Bears,’ and when you get tired of making 
those you can have one about ‘The Wonders of 
America,’ and put In Niagara.” 

“And the Rocky Mountains,” said Tom. 

“And the Woolworth Building,” suggested Ethel 
Brown. 

“And a cotton field with the negroes picking cot- 
ton,” added Ethel Blue. 

“There wouldn’t be any trouble getting material 
for that one,” said Helen. 

“Nor for one on any American city. I’ve got 
one started that Is going to show New York from; 
the statue of Liberty to the Jumel Mansion and 
the Van Cortland House, with a lot of other his- 
torical buildings and skyscrapers and museums In be- 
tween.” 

■ “We’ll be promoting emigration from the old 
country after the war Is over If we show the young- 


154 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

sters all the attractions that Uncle Sam has to offer.” 

“There’ll be a lot of them come over anyway so 
they might as well learn what they’ll see when they 
arrive.” 

“I see heaps of opportunities in that idea,” said 
Roger. “There’s a chance to teach the kiddies 
something by these books if we’re careful to be 
truthful in the pictures we put in.” 

“Not to make monkeys swinging down the forests 
of Broadway, eh?” laughed Tom. 

“If I’m to do a million or two of these you’ll all 
have to help me get the pictures together,” begged 
James. 

“I’ve brought some with me you can have for a 
starter,” said Della, “and I’m collecting others 
and keeping them in separate envelopes — animals in 
one and buildings in another and so on. It will make 
it easier for you.” 

Muchas graciaSf Sehoritaf* bowed James, who 
was just beginning Spanish and liked to air a “Thank 
you” occasionally. 

“I know what I’m going to make for some mem- 
ber of my family,” declared Roger. 

“Name it, it will be such a surprise when it comes.” 

“Probably it will go to Grandmother Emerson 
so I don’t mind telling you that I think I’ll write a 
history of our summer at Chautauqua and illustrate 
it.” 

“That’s the best notion that ever came from 
Roger,” approved James. “I think I’ll make one 
and give it to Father. The Recognition Day pro- 
cession and all that, you know.” 

“Envelopes make me think that we may have 
some small gifts — cards or handkerchiefs — that we 


155 


JAMES’S AFTERNOON PARTY 

can send in envelopes,” said Ethel Blue, ‘‘and we 
ought to decorate them just as much as our boxes.” 

“They won’t be hard. Any of the ideas we’ve 
suggested for the boxes will do — flowers and sil- 
houettes, and seals. You’re a smarty with water- 
colors so you can paint some original figures or a 
tiny landscape, but the rest of us will have to keep 
to the pastepot,” laughed Margaret. 

“For home gifts we can write rhymes to put into 
the envelopes, but I suppose it wouldn’t do for these 
European kids,” said Tom. “We don’t know 
where they’re going, you see, and it would never do 
if an English child got a German rhyme or the other 
way round.” 

“0-oh, ne-ver/^ gasped Ethel Blue whose quick 
imagination sympathized with the feelings of a child 
to whom such a thing happened. “We’ll have to 
make them understand through their eyes.” 

“Fortunately Santa Claus with his pack speaks a 
language they can all understand,” nodded Roger. 

“Here comes his humble servant right now,” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Hancock at the door. 

Tom ran to hold it open for her, and Roger re- 
lieved her of the waiter which she was carrying. 

“James has to have an egg-nog at this time,” she 
explained, “so I thought all of you might like to be 
‘picked up’ after your hard afternoon’s work.” 

These sentiments were greeted with applause 
though Tom insisted that the best part of the after- 
noon was yet to come as he had not yet had a chance 
to tell about his invention. 

“One that you’ll appreciate tremendously, Mrs. 
Hancock,” he said gravely. “All housekeepers will. 
You must get Margaret to make you one.” 


156 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“Don’t tell her what it is and I can give it to her 
for Christmas,” cried Margaret. 

James’s egg-nog and his wafers were placed on 
the table beside him. The others sat at small tables, 
of which there were several around the room, and 
drank their egg-nog and ate their cakes with great 
satisfaction. 

“Tell me how this egg-nog is made,” begged 
Helen. “It is delicious and I’m sure Mother would 
like to know.” 

“Mother always has it made the same way,” re- 
plied Margaret. “I’m sure it is concocted out of six 
eggs and half a pound of sugar, and three pints of 
whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon and nut- 
meg.” 

“It’s so foamy — that isn’t the whipped cream 
alone.” 

“First you beat the yolks of the eggs and the 
sugar together until it is all frothy. Then you beat 
the whites of the eggs by themselves until they are 
stiff and you stir that in gently. Then you put the 
spice on top of that and lastly you heap the whipped 
cream on top of the whole thing.” 

“It’s perfectly delicious,” exclaimed Dorothy, 
“and so is the fruit cake.” 

“Mother prides herself on her fruit cake. It is 
good, isn’t it? She’s going to let me make some to 
send to the orphans.” 

“Won’t that be great. Baked in ducky little pans 
like these.” 

“They’ll keep perfectly, of course.” 

“Would your mother let us have the receipt now 
so we could be practicing it to make some too?” 
asked Dorothy. 


JAMES’S AFTERNOON PARTY 157 

“I’m sure she’d be delighted,” and Margaret ran 
off to get her mother’s manuscript cook book from 
which Dorothy copied the following receipt: 


Va 

H 

y2 

y2 

2 

2 

I 


“Fruit Cake 
cup butter 
cup brown sugar 
cup raisins, chopped 
cup currants 

cup citron, cut in small pieces 

cup molasses 

eggs 

cup milk 
cups flour 
teaspoon soda 
teaspoon cinnamon 
teaspoon allspice 
teaspoon nutmeg 
teaspoon cloves 

teaspoon lemon extract or vanilla 


“Sift the flour, soda and spices together. Beat 
the eggs, add the milk to them. Cream the butter, 
add the sugar gradually, add the molasses, the milk 
and egg, then the flour gradually. Mix the fruit, 
sift a little flour over it, rub it in the flour, add to it 
the mixture. Add the extract. Stir and beat well. 
Fill greased pans two-thirds full. Bake in a mod- 
erately hot oven one and a quarter hours if in a loaf. 
In small sizes bake slowly twenty to thirty minutes.” 

“I’m ready to hear what Tom’s got to offer,” said 
James, leaning back luxuriously in his chair after the 
remains of the feast had been taken away. 

“Mine is a paper-cutting scheme,” responded 


158 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

Tom. “Perhaps it won’t come easy to everybody, 
but on a small scale I’m something of a paper cutter 
myself.” 

“Dull edged?” queried Roger. 

“Hm,” acknowledged Tom. “I can’t illustrate 
‘Cinderella’ like the man Della saw, but I can cut 
simple figures and I want to propose one arrange- 
ment of them to this august body.” 

“Fire ahead,” came Roger’s permission. 

“It’s just a variation of the 
strings of paper dolls that I used 
to make for Della when she was 
a year or two younger than she is 
now.” 

Della received this taunt with a 
puckered face. 

“You fold strips of white paper 
— or blue or yellow or any old 
color — in halves and then in halves 
again and then again, until it is 
about three inches wide. Then 
you cut one figure of a little girl, 
‘^Id^ips of paper lotting the tips of the hands and 
and then cut one perhaps the lower edges of the 
figure of a little remain uncut. When you 

unfold the strip you have a string 
of cutey little girls joining hands. See?” 

They all laughed for all of them had cut just such 
figures when they were children. 

“Now my application of this simple device,” went 
on Tom in the solemn tones of a professor, “is to 
make them serve as lamp shades.” 

“For the orphans?” laughed Roger. 

“For the orphans I’m going to cut about a bushel 



JAMES’S AFTERNOON PARTY 159 

of strips of all colors. Children always like to play 
with them just so.” 

“I don’t see why those of us who can’t draw 
couldn’t cut a child or a dog or some figure from a 
magazine and lay It on the folded paper and trace 
around the edges and then cut it,” suggested Dor- 
othy. 

“You could perfectly well. All you have to re- 
member is to leave a folded edge at the side, top and 



A String of Paper Dolls 


bottom. You can make a row of dogs standing on 
their hind paws and holding hands — forepaws — and 
the ground they are standing on will fasten them to- 
gether at the bottom.” 

“How does the lamp shade Idea work out?” asked 
Helen with Grandfather Emerson’s Christmas gift 
in mind. 

“You cut a string of figures that are fairly straight 
up and down, like Greek maidens or some conven- 
tional vases or a dance of clowns. Then you must 
be sure that your strip Is long enough to go around 
your shade. Then you line it with asbestos paper 
— the kind that comes in a sort of book for the 
kitchen.” 



i6o ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“I see. You paste the strip right on to the as- 
bestos paper and cut out the figures,” guessed James. 
“Exactly,” replied Tom. “After which you paste 



the ends of the strip together and there you have 
your shade ready to slip on to the glass.” 

“What keeps it from falling down and off?” 

“The shape of the shade usually holds it up. If 
it isn’t the right shape, though, you can run a cord 
through your figures’ hands and tighten them up as 
much as you need to.” 


JAMES’S AFTERNOON PARTY i6i 

“I think that’s a rather jolly stunt of Tom’s,” 
commended Roger patronizingly. Tom gave him a 
kick under the table and James growled a request 
not to hit his game leg. 



noon?” 

“I thought of picture frames,” offered James. 


27 


1 62 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“While my hand is in with pasting I believe I’ll 
make some frames — a solid pasteboard back and the 
front with an oval or an oblong or a square cut out 
of it. You paste the front on to the back at the 
edges except at the bottom. You leave that open to 
put the picture in.” 

“You can cover that with chintz — cotton, cotton, 
cotton,” chanted Dorothy, who seldom missed a 
chance to promote the cotton crusade. 

“How do you hang it up?” asked Margaret. 

“Stick on a little brass ring with a bit of tape. 
Or you can make it stand by putting a stiff bit of 
cardboard behind it with a tape hinge.” 

“That would be a good home present,” said Ethel 
Brown. 

“Perfectly good for family photographs. You 
can make them hold two or three. But you can fix 
them up for the European kids and put in any sort 
of picture — a dog or a cat or George Washington 
or some really beautiful picture.” 

“I believe in giving thern pictures of America or 
American objects or places or people,” said Dorothy. 

“Dorothy is the champion patriot of the United 
Service Club,” laughed Roger. “Come on, infants; 
we must let James rest or Mrs. Hancock won’t in- 
vite us to come again. I wish you could get over to 
Rosemont for the movies next week,” he added. 

“What movies?” 

“The churches have clubbed together and hired 
the school hall and they’re going to get the latest 
moving pictures from the war zone that they can 
find. It is the first time Rosemont has ever had the 
real thing.” 


CHAPTER XV 


PREVENTION 



HE Mortons were gathered about the fire in 


i the half hour of the day which they especially 
enjoyed. Mrs. Morton made a point of being at 
home herself for this time, and she liked to have all 
the young people meet her in the dusk and tell her 
of the day’s work and play. It was a time when 
every one was glad to rest for a few minutes after 
dressing for dinner. 

“I’m sure to get my hair mussed up if I do any- 
thing but talk to Mother after I brush it for dinner,” 
Roger was in the habit of explaining, “so it suits me 
just to stare at the fire.” 

He was sitting now on the floor beside her with 
his head leaning against the arm of her chair. 
Dicky was occupying the Morris chair with her, and 
the three girls were in comfortable positions, the 
Ethels on the sofa and Helen knitting a scarf as she 
sat on a footstool before the blaze. 

“You’re not trying your eyes knitting in this im- 
perfect light?” asked her mother. 

“This is plain sailing. Mother. I can rush along 
on this straight piece almost as fast as Mrs. Hin- 
denburg, and I don’t have to look on at all unless a 
horrid fear seizes me that I’ve skipped a stitch.” 

“Which I hope you haven’t done.” 

“Never really but there have been several false 
alarms.” 


1 64 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“How is Fraulein?” 

“All right, I guess.” 

“Did you see her to-day?” 

“We had German compo to-day. I didn’t do 
much with it.” 

“Why not?” 

“It didn’t seem to go off well. I don’t know why. 
Perhaps I didn’t try as hard as usual.” 

“Did it disturb Fraulein?” 

“Did what disturb Fraulein?” 

“That you didn’t do your lesson well.” 

“Disturb Fraulein? I don’t know. Why should 
it disturb her? I should think I was the one to be 
disturbed.” 

“Were you?” 

“Was I disturbed? Well, no. Mother, to tell the 
truth I didn’t care much. That old German is so 
hard and the words all break up so foolishly — some- 
how it didn’t seem very important to me this morn- 
ing. And Fanny Shrewsbury said something aw- 
fully funny about it under her breath and we got 
laughing and — no, I wasn’t especially disturbed.” 

“Although you had a poor lesson and didn’t try 
to make up for it by paying strict attention in the 
class I” 

“Why, Mother, I,^ er— ” 

Helen stopped knitting. 

“You think I’m taking too seriously a poor lesson 
that wasn’t very bad, after all? Possibly I am, but 
I’ve been noticing that all of you are more careless 
lately than I want my girls and boys to be.” 

Mrs. Morton stroked Roger’s hair and looked 
around at the handsome young faces illuminated by 
the firelight. 


PREVENTION 165 

‘Tou mean us, too?” cried the Ethels, sitting up 
straight upon the sofa. 

“You, too.” 

“We haven’t meant to be careless. Mother,” said 
Roger soberly. His mother’s good opinion was 
something he was proud of keeping and she was so 
fair in her judgments that he felt that he must meet 
any accusations like the present in the honest spirit 
in which they were made. 

“Do you want to know what I think is the trouble 
with all of you?” 

Every one of them cried out for information, even 
Dicky, whose “Yeth” rang out above the others. 

“If you ask for my candid opinion,” responded 
Mrs. Morton, “I think you are giving so much time 
and attention to the work of the U. S. C. that you 
aren’t paying proper attention to the small matters 
of every day life that we must all meet.” 

“Oh, but. Mother, you approve of the U. S. C.” 

“Certainly I approve of it. I think it is fine in 
every way; but I don’t believe in your becoming so 
absorbed in it that you forget your daily duties. 
Aunt Louise had to telephone to Roger to go- over 
and start her furnace for her yesterday when the 
sharp snap came, and the Ethels have been rushing 
off in the morning without doing the small things to 
help Mary that are a part of their day’s work.” 

“Oh, Mother, they’re such little things ! She can 
do them easily once in a while.” 

“Any one of your morning tasks is a small matter, 
but when none of them are done they mount up to a 
good deal for Mary. If there were some real neces- 
sity for making an extra bed Mary would do it 
without complaining, but when, as happened yester- 


1 66 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


day morning, neither of you Ethels made your bed, 
and Roger left towels thrown aU over his floor, and 
not one of Helen’s bureau drawers was shut tight, 
and Dicky upset a box of beads and went off to kin- 
dergarten without picking them up — don’t you see 
that what meant but a few minutes’ work for each 
one of you meant an hour’s work for one person?” 

“I’ll bet Mary didn’t mind,” growled Roger. 

“Mary is too loyal to say anything, but if your 
present careless habits should continue we should 
have to have an extra maid to wait on you, and you 
know very well that that is impossible.” 

“I’m sorry, Mother,” said Roger penitently. 
“I’m sorry about the towels and about Aunt Louise 
and I’m sorry I growled. You’re right, of course.” 

“I rather guess we’ve been led astray by being so 
successful with our team work in the club,” said 
Helen thoughtfully. “We’ve found out that we can 
do all sorts of things well if we pull together and 
we’ve been forgetting to apply co-operation at 
home.” 

“Exactly,” agreed Mrs. Morton. “And you’ve 
been so absorbed in the needs of people several thou- 
sand miles away that you overlook the needs of peo- 
ple beside you. What you’ve been doing to Mary is 
unkind; what Helen did to Fraulein this morning 
was unkind.” 

“Oh, Mother! I wouldn’t be unkind to Fraulein 
for the world.” 

“I don’t believe you would if you thought about 
it. •She certainly is in such sore trouble that she 
needs all the consideration that her scholars can give 
her, yet you must have annoyed her greatly this 
morning.” 


PREVENTION 167 

“Pm afraid Fraulein’s used to our not knowing 
our lessons very well,” observed Roger. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, but if you know you 
aren’t doing as well as you ought to with your les- 
sons that is the best reason in the world for you to 
pay the strictest attention while you are in class. 
Yet Helen says that she and Fanny Shrewsbury were 
laughing. I’m afraid Fraulein isn’t feeling espe- 
cially content with her work this afternoon.” 

“Mother, you make me feel like a hound dog,” 
cried Helen. “And I’ve been talking as if I were so 
sorry for Fraulein!” 

“You are sorry for her as the heroine of a ro- 
mance, because her betrothed is in the army and she 
doesn’t know where he is or whether he is alive. 
It sounds like a story in a book. But when you 
think what that would mean if it were you that had 
to endure the suffering it wouldn’t seem romantic. 
Suppose Father were fighting in Mexico and we 
hadn’t heard from him for a month — do you think 
you could throw off your anxiety for a minute? 
Don’t you think you’d have to be careful every in- 
stant in school to control yourself? Don’t^y^ think 
it would be pretty hard if some one in school con- 
stantly did things that irritated you — didn’t know 
her lessons and then laughed and giggled all through 
the recitation hour?” 

Helen’s and Roger’s heads were bent. 

“Imagine,” Mrs. Morton went on, “how you 
would feel every day when you came home, won- 
dering all the way whether a letter had come; won- 
dering whether, if one had come, it would be from 
Father or from some one else saying that Father 
was — wounded.” 


1 68 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“Oh, Mother, I can’t — ” Helen was almost crying. 

“You can’t bear to think of it; yet — ” 

“Yet Fraulein was just so anxious and — ” 

“And we made things worse for her!” 

“I know you didn’t think — ” 

“We ought to think. I’ve excused myself all my 
life by saying ‘I didn’t think.’ I ought to think.” 

“ ‘I didn’t think’ explains, but it doesn’t excuse” 

“Nothing excuses meanness.” 

“That’s true.” 

“And it’s almost as mean not to see when people' 
are in trouble as it is to see it and not to care.” 

“I’m glad you’re teaching us to be observant. Aunt 
Marion,” said Ethel Blue quietly. “I used to think 
it was sort of distinguished to be absent-minded and 
not to pay attention to people, but now I think it’s just 
stupidity.” 

“Mother,” said Roger, sitting up straight, “I’ve 
been a beast. Poor Fraulein is worrying herself 
to pieces every minute of the day and I never 
thought anything about it. And I let Aunt Louise 
freeze yesterday morning and Dorothy had to go 
to school before the house was warmed up and she 
had a cold to-day because she got chilled. I see 
your point, and I’m a reformed pirate from this 
minute I” 

Roger rose and squared his shoulders and walked 
about the room. 

“When you think it out it’s little things that are 
hard to manage all the time,” he went on thought- 
fully. “Here are these little things that we’ve been 
pestering Mary about, and when we kids squabble 
it’s almost always about some trifle.” 

“A pin prick is often more trying than a severe 


PREVENTION 


169 

wound,” agreed his mother. “You brace yourself 
to bear a real hurt, but it doesn’t seem worth while 
for a trifle and so you whine about it before you 
think. If Father and Uncle Richard really were in 
action all of us would do our best to be brave about 
it and to bear our trouble uncomplainingly — ” 

“The way Fraulein does,” murmured Helen. 

“That’s the way when you have a sickness,” said 
Ethel Brown. “When I had the measles you and 
Mary said I didn’t make much fuss, but every 
time I catch cold I’m afraid all of you hear about 
it.” 

“We do,” agreed Roger cheerfully. 

“I should say, then,” remarked Mrs. Morton as. 
Mary appeared at the door to announce dinner, 
“that this club should bear in mind that it is to 
serve not only those at a distance but those near 
home, and not only to serve people in deepest 
trouble but to serve by preventing suffering.” 

“I get you. Mother dear,” said Roger, taking 
his father’s seat. 

“Prevention is a great modern principle that we 
don’t think enough about,” said Mrs. Morton. 

“I know what you mean — fire prevention,” ex- 
claimed Ethel Blue. “Tom Watkins was telling 
us the other day about the Fire Prevention parade 
they had in New York. There were a lot of en- 
gines and hose wagons and ladder wagons and they 
were all covered with cards telling how much wiser 
it was to prevent fire than to let it start and then 
try to put it out.” 

“Della saw the parade,” said Ethel Brown. 
“She told me there were signs that said ‘It’s cheaper 
to put a sprinkler in your factory than to rebuild the 


170 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

factory’; and ‘One cigarette in a factory may cost 
thousands of dollars in repairs.’ ” 

“The doctors have been working to prevent dis- 
ease,” said Roger. “James has often told me what 
his father is doing to teach people how to avoid 
being sick.” 

“All these clean-up campaigns are really for the 
prevention of illness as much as the making of 
cleanliness,” said Mrs. Morton. 

“Everything of that sort educates people, and we 
can apply the same methods to our own lives,” 
advised Mrs. Morton. “Why can’t we have a 
household campaign to prevent giving Mary unneces- 
sary work and to avoid irritating each other?” 

“All that can be worked in as part of the duties 
of the Service Club,” said Ethel Blue. 

“Certainly it can. What’s the matter, Ethel 
Brown?” 

Ethel Brown was on the point of tears. 

“One of the girls at school gave me an order for 
cookies the other day,” she said, “and I didn’t do 
them because we went over to the Hancocks’ that 
afternoon.” 

“You got your own punishment there,” remarked 
Roger. “If you didn’t fill the order you didn’t 
get any pay.” 

“That wasn’t all. She was going to take them 
to a cousin of hers who was just getting over the 
mumps. She wanted to surprise her. She was aw- 
fully mad because I didn’t make them. She said 
she had depended on them and she didn’t have any- 
thing to take to her cousin.” 

“There you see it,” exclaimed Mrs. Morton. 
“It didn’t seem much to Ethel Brown not to make 


PREVENTION 


171 

two or three dozen cookies, but in the first place she 
broke her promise, and in the next place she caused 
real unhappiness to a girl who was depending on 
them to give pleasure to her sick cousin.” 

“You’ve given us a shake-up we won’t forget 
soon, Mother,” remarked Roger. “There’s one 
duty I haven’t done this week that you haven’t men- 
tioned, but I’m pretty sure you know it so I might 
as well bring it into the light myself and say I’m 
sorry.” 

“What is it?” laughed his mother. 

“I haven’t been over to see Grandfather and 
Grandmother Emerson for ten days.” 

“They’ll be sorry.” 

“I was relying on one of the girls going.” 

“We haven’t been,” confessed the Ethels. 

“Nor I,” admitted Helen. 

Mrs. Morton looked serious. 

“We love to go there,” said Ethel Brown, “but 
we’ve been so busy.” 

“Too busy to be kind to the people near at hand, 
eh?” 

The young people looked ruefully at one another. 

“Anyway, watch me be attentive to Fraulein,” 
promised Helen. 

She was. She and Roger made a point of giving 
her as little trouble as possible; and of paying her 
unobtrusive attentions. Roger carried home for 
her a huge bundle of exercises ; the Ethels left some 
chestnuts at her door when they came back from a 
hunt on the hillside, and even Dicky wove her a mat 
at kindergarten of red and white and black paper 
— the German colors. 

The Mortons were all attention to James, too. 


172 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

Every day they remembered to call him up on the 
telephone and ask him how his box-making was com- 
ing on. He had a telephone extension on the table 
at his elbow and these daily talks cheered him 
greatly. The others were leaving the making of 
most of the pasted articles to him, and they were 
going on with the manufacture of baskets and 
leather and brass and copper articles and of odds 
and ends of various kinds. 

“Perhaps I’ll be able to get up to Dorothy’s next 
Saturday,” James phoned to Roger one day, “if 
Mrs. Smith wouldn’t mind the Club meeting down- 
stairs. I suppose the Pater wouldn’t let me try to 
climb to the attic yet.” 

Mrs. Smith was delighted to make the change for 
James’s benefit, but before the day came he called 
up Roger one afternoon in great excitement. 

“When did you say those church movies were?” 
he asked. 

“To-morrow evening.” 

“Father says he’ll take me over if he doesn’t have 
a hurry call at the last minute.” 

Roger gave a whoop that resounded along the 
wire. 

“You’ll find the whole Club drawn up at the door 
of the schoolhouse to meet you,” he cried. “The 
Watkinses are coming out from New York. Will 
Margaret come with you?” 

“She and Mother will go over in the trolley.” 

As Roger had promised, the Club was drawn up 
in double ranks before the door when Doctor Han- 
cock stopped his machine close to the step. Roger 
and Tom ran down to make a chair on which to 
carry James inside, and Helen and Dorothy were 


PREVENTION 


173 


ready with the wheel-chair belonging to the old lady 
at the Home who had been glad to lend It for the 
evening to the boy whose acquaintance she had made 
at the Club entertainment. 

James was rather embarrassed at being so con- 
spicuous, but all his Rosemont acquaintances came 
to speak to him and he was quite the hero of the oc- 
casion. 

The moving pictures were an innovation In Rose- 
mont. There had been various picture shows In 
empty stores In the town and they had not all been 
of a character approved by the parents of the school 
children who went to them in great numbers. The 
rooms were dark and there was danger of fire and 
the pictures themselves were not always suitable for 
young people to see or agreeable for their elders. 
The result of a conference among some of the 
townspeople who had the Interests of the place at 
heart was this entertainment which was the first of 
a series to be given in the school hall on Friday 
evenings all through the winter. The films were 
chosen by a sub-committee and it was hoped that they 
would be so liked that the poor places down town 
would find It unprofitable to continue. 

The program was pleasantly varied. The story 
of a country boy who went to New York to make his 
fortune and who found out that, as In the Oriental 
story, his fortune lay burled In his own dooryard — 
in this case In the printing office of his own town — 
was the opener. 

That was followed by a remarkable film showing 
the habits of swallows and by another whereon some 
of the flowers of Burbank’s garden waved softly in 
the California breeze. 


174 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

A dramatization of Daudet’s famous story called 
‘‘The Last Class” brought tears to the eyes of the 
onlookers whose thoughts were much across the 
Atlantic. 

It was a simple, touching tale, and it served ap- 
propriately as the forerunner of the war pictures that 
had just been sent to America by photographers in 
Germany and France and Belgium. 

The first showed troops leaving Berlin, flags fly- 
ing, bands playing, while the crowds along the street 
waved a cheerful parting, though once in a while a 
woman bent her head behind her neighbor’s shoul- 
der to hide her tears. 

There were scenes in Belgium — houses shattered 
by the bombs of airmen, huge holes dug by explod- 
ing shells; wounded soldiers making their way to- 
ward the hospitals, those with bandaged heads and 
arms helping those whose staggering feet could 
hardly carry them. 

It was a serious crowd that followed every move- 
ment that passed on the screen before their eyes*. 
The silence was deep. 

Then came a hospital scene. Rows upon rows 
of beds ran from the front of the picture almost out 
of sight. Down the space between them came the 
doctors, instruments in hand, and behind them the 
nurses, the red crosses gleaming on their arm bands. 

A stir went through the onlookers. 

“It looks like her.” 

“I believe it is.” 

“Don’t you think so? The one on the right?” 

“It is — it’s Mademoiselle Millerand!” cried 
Roger clearly. 

The operator, hearing the noise in front of his 


PREVENTION 


I7S. 


Ibooth, and all unconscious that he was showing a 
friend to these townspeople where the pretty young 
French teacher had lived for two years, almost 
stopped turning his machine. So slowly it went that 
there was no doubt among any who had known her. 
She followed the physician to the bed nearest the 
front. There they stopped and the doctor turned 
to Mademoiselle and asked some question. She 
was ready with bandages. An orderly slipped his 
arm under the soldier’s pillow and raised his head. 
His eyes were closed and his face was deathly white. 
The doctor shook his head. Evidently he would 
not attempt an operation upon so ill a man. He 
signed to the attendant to lay the man down and as 
he did so the people in Rosemont, far, far away 
from the Belgian hospital, heard a piercing shriek. 

*‘Mein Verloht! My betrothed!” screamed 
Fraulein Hindenburg. 

“That’s Schuler.” 

“Don’t you recognize Schuler?” 

“No wonder poor Fraulein screamed!” 

Kind hands were helping Fraulein and her mother 
from the hall. Doctor Hancock went out with them 
to give a restorative to the young woman and to 
take them home in his car. 

“Didn’t he die at that very moment, Herr Doc- 
tor?” whispered Fraulein, and the doctor was 
obliged to confess that it seemed so. 

“But we can’t be sure,” he insisted. 

Fraulein’s agitation put an end to the entertain- 
ment for that evening. Indeed, the film was almost 
exhausted when the bitter sight came to her. The 
people filed out seriously. 

“If that poor girl has been in doubt about her 


176 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

betrothed, now she knows,’’ one said to an- 
other. 

“Do you think he really died?” James asked his 
father as they were driving home. 

“I’m afraid he did, son. But there is just a chance 
that he didn’t because the film changed just there 
to another scene so you couldn’t tell.” 

“That might have been because they didn’t want 
to show a death scene.” 

“I’m afraid it was.” 


i 


CHAPTER XVI 

FOR SANTA CLAUS’s PACK 

J AMES telephoned Dorothy that he was going to 
be at her house on the afternoon of the Club 
meeting if it was going to be downstairs and Dor- 
othy replied that her mother was very glad to let 
them have the dining room to work in. All the 
members had arrived when Doctor Hancock stopped 
his car at the door and Margaret got out and rang 
the bell for Roger’s and Tom’s help in getting James 
into the house. Everybody hailed him with pleas- 
ure and everybody’s tongue began at once to chatter 
about the dramatic happening of the evening before. 

“I’m perfectly crazy to hear everything you’ve 
learned this morning,” said Margaret, “but before 
we start talking about it I want to make a beginning 
on a basket so I can be working while I listen.” 

“Me, too,” said James. “I’ve pasted enough 
boxes and gimcracks to fill a young cottage. In fact 
they are now packed in a young cottage that Father 
is going to bring over some day when he hasn’t 
any other load. He said the car wouldn’t hold it 
and Margaret and him and me all at the same time 
this afternoon.” 

“We’ve been making all sorts of things this week,” 
said Ethel Brown. “I’m just finishing the last of a 
dozen balls that I’ve been covering with crochet. 
It’s the simplest thing in the world and they’re fine 
for little children because the slippery rubber balls 
28 177 


178 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

slide out of their fingers and these are just rough 
enough for their tiny paws to cling to.” 

“I’ve been making those twin bed-time dolls,” said 
Ethel Blue. “You’ve seen them in all the shops — 
just ugly dolls of worsted — but mine are made like 
the Danish Nisse, the elves that the Danes use to 
decorate their Yuletide trees.” 

She held up a handful of wee dolls made of white 
worsted, doubled until the little figure was about a 
finger long. A few strands on each side were cut 
shorter than the rest and stood out as arms. A 
red thread tied a little way from the top indicated 
the neck; another about the middle defined the waist; 
the lower part was divided and each leg was tied at 
the ankle with red thread, and a red thread bound 
the wrists. On the head a peaked red hat of flan- 
nel or of crochet shaded a face wherein two black 
stitches represented the eyes, a third the nose, and 
a red dot the ruby lips. From the back of the neck 
a crocheted cord about eighteen inches long con- 
nected one elf with his twin. 

“What’s the idea of two?” inquired Tom. 

“To keep each other company. You tie them on 
to a wire of the baby’s crib and they won’t get lost.” 

“Or on to the perambulator.” 

“They don’t take long to make — see, I wind the 
wool over my fingers, so, to get the right length, 
and then I tie them as quick as a wink; and when I 
feel in the mood of making the caps I turn off a 
dozen or two of them — ” 

“And the cord by the yard, I suppose.” 

“Just about. I’ve made quantities of these this 
week and I’m not going to make any more, so I’ll 
help with the baskets or the stenciling.” 


s 


FOR SANTA CLAUS’S PACK 179 

‘‘I’ve been jig-sawing,” said Roger. “I’ve made 
jumping jacks till you can’t rest.” 

“Where did you get your pattern?” asked Tom 
who also was a jig sawyer. 

“I took an old one of Dicky’s that was on the 



Jumping Jack 


downward road and pulled It to pieces so that I could 
use each part for a pattern. I cut out ever so many 
of each section. Then I spent one afternoon paint- 
ing legs and arms and jackets and caps, and Ethel 
Blue painted the faces for me. I’m not much on 
expression except my own, you know.” 


i8o ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“Have you put them together yet?” 

“Dorothy has been tying the pull strings for me 
this afternoon and I’m going to do the glueing now 
while you people are learning baskets.” 

“James ought to do the glueing for you,” sug- 
gested Margaret in spite of James’s protesting ges- 
tures. 

Roger laughed. 

“I wouldn’t be so mean as to ask him,” he said. 
“He’s stuck up enough for one lifetime, I suspect.” 

“I’ve been jigging, too,” confessed Tom. 

“Anything pretty?” asked Roger. 

“Of course something pretty,” defended Helen. 
“Don’t you remember the beauty box he made Mar- 
garet?” 

“I certainly do. Its delicate openwork surpassed 
any of my humble efforts.” 

“It was pretty, wasn’t it?” murmured Margaret. 
“The yellow silk lining showed through.” 

“What I’ve been doing lately was the very sim- 
plest possible toy for the orphans.” Tom dis- 
claimed any fine work. “I’ve just been cutting cir- 
cles out of cigar boxes and punching two holes side 
by side in each one. Then I run a string through 
the two holes. You slip it over your forefinger of 
each hand and whirl the disk around the string until 
it is wound up tight and then by pulling the string you 
keep the whirligig going indefinitely.” 

“It doesn’t look like much of a toy to me,” said 
Della crushingly. 

“May be not, ma’am, but I tried it on Dad and 
Edward and they played with it for ten minutes 
apiece. You find yourself pulling it in time to some 
air you’re humming in the back of your head.” 


FOR SANTA CLAUS’S PACK i8i 


“Right- 0 ,” agreed James. “I had a tin one once 
and I played with it from morning till night. I be- 
lieve the orphans will spend most of their waking 
hours tweaking those cords.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” said Tom. “Roger was 
so emphatic I was afraid I’d been wasting my 
time.” 

“What’s Dorothy been up to this week?” asked 
James. 

“Dorothy couldn’t make up her mind whether she 
wanted most to make bags or model clay candle- 
sticks or dress dolls this week,” responded Dorothy, 
“but she finally decided to dress dolls.” 

“Where did you get the dolls?” 

“Some of them I got with treasury money — 
they’re real dolls, and I made galoptious frocks for 
them out of scraps from piece-bags.” 

“Were you patient enough to make all the clothes 
to take off?” asked Della. 

“Every identical garment,” replied Dorothy em- 
phatically. “Dolls aren’t any fun unless you can 
dress and undress them. I never cared a rap for a 
doll with its clothes fastened on.” 

“Nor I.” 

“Nor I.” 

“Nor I.” 

Every girl in the room agreed with this opinion. 

“The rag dolls are the ones I believe the children 
will like best,” said Helen; “that is, if they are at 
all like American children.” 

“Isn’t it funny — I always liked that terrible look- 
ing old rag object of mine better than the prettiest 
one Father ever sent me,” agreed Ethel Blue. 

“Every child does,” said Margaret. 


1 82 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“Dorothy made some fine ones,” complimented 
Helen. 

“Did you draw them or did you get the ones that 
are already printed on cloth?” asked Della. 

“Both. The printed ones are a great deal pret- 
tier than mine, but Aunt Marion had a stout piece 
of cotton cloth — ” 

A shout arose. 

“Cotton cloth! That’s enough to interest Dor- 
othy in making anything,” laughed Tom. 

“Almost,” agreed Dorothy good-naturedly. 
“Any way, I used up the piece of cloth making dolls 
and cats and dogs. I drew them on the cloth and 
then stitched them on the machine and, I tell you, 
I remembered the time when Dicky’s stuffed cat had 
an awful accident and lost almost all his inner 
thoughts, and I sewed every one of the little beasties 
twice around.” 

“What did you stuff them with?” 

“Some with cotton.” 

“Ha, ha!” 

“Ha!” retorted Dorothy, “and some with rags, 
and one with sawdust, but I didn’t care for him; 
he was lumpy.” 

“I didn’t know you could paint well enough to 
color them,” said Roger. 

“I can’t. I did a few but Ethel Blue did the 
best one. There was a cat that was so fierce that 
Aunt Marion’s cat growled at it. He was a win- 
ner!” 

“All the rag dolls were dressed in cotton dresses,” 
explained Ethel Brown. 

“Of course.” 

“But the real dolls were positively scrumptious. 


FOR SANTA CLAUS’S PACK 183 

There was a bride, and a girl In a khaki sport suit, 
and a boy in a sailor suit, and a baby. They were 
regular beauties.” 

All the time that these descriptions had been given 
Dorothy and the Mortons had been opening pack- 
ages of rattan and raffia and laying them out on the 
dining table. James sat in state at one end, his 
convalescent leg raised on a chair, and his right 
hand to the table so that he could handle his ma- 
terials easily. 

“I’m simply perishing to hear about Fraulein,” 
he acknowledged. “Do start me on this basket 
business, Dorothy, so I can hear about her.” 

“We don’t know such an awful lot,” said Dor- 
othy slowly as she counted out the spokes for a small 
basket. “In fact, we don’t know anything at all.” 

“Misery! And my curiosity has been actually 
on the boil 1 How many of those sticks do I need?” 

“Let’s all do the same basket,” suggested Ethel 
Brown. “Then one lecture by Miss Dorothy Smith 
will do for all of us.” 

“Doesn’t anybody else know how to make them?” 

“Della and I do,” replied Ethel Blue. “We’re 
going to work on raffia, but you people might just 
as well all do one kind of basket. We can use any 
number of them, you know, so it doesn’t make any 
difference if they are all alike.” 

“We’ll start with a basket that measures three 
inches across the bottom and is two and a half inches 
deep,” announced Dorothy, who was an expert bas- 
ket maker. “You’ll need eight spokes sixteen inches 
long and one nine inches long.” 

There was a general cutting and counting of rat- 
tan spokes. 


1 84 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“Are you ready? Take your knife and in four 
rattans make slits long enough to poke the other 
four rattans through.” 

“They’re rather fat to get through,” complained 
James. 



“Make slits long enough to poke the other rattans through. Sharpen 
them to a point” 



“Sharpen them to a point. Have you put them 
through so they make a cross with the arms of even 
length? Then put the single short piece through 
on one arm — no, not way through, James; just far 
enough to catch it.” 

“That’s pretty solid just as it is,” commented 
Tom with his head on one side. 


FOR SANTA CLAUS’S PACK 185 

“Nevertheless, you must wrap it with a piece of 
raiha. Watch me; lay your raffia at the left side 
of the upright arm and bring it across from left to 
right. Now pass it under the right hand arm and 
over the bottom arm and under the left hand arm. 
Instead of covering the wrapping you’ve just done 
you turn back and let your bit of raffia go over the 
left hand arm.” 



“This weaving process makes the spokes stand out like wheel 
spokes” 

“That binds down the beginning end of the raffia,” 
cried Helen. 

“Exactly. That’s why you do it. Go under the 
bottom arm and over the right hand arm behind the 
top arm.” 

“Back at the station the train started from,” an- 
nounced Margaret. 

“So far you’ve used your weaver — ” 

“What’s that? The raffia?” 

“Yes. So far you’ve used it merely to fasten the 


1 86 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


centre firmly. Now you really begin to weave under 
and over the spokes, round and round.” 

“I could shoot beans through mine,” announced 
James. 

“You haven’t pulled your weaver tight as you 
wove. Push it down hard toward the centre. 
That’s it. See how firm that is ? You could hardly 
get water through that — much less beans or hound 
puppies, as they say in some parts of North Caro- 
lina.” 

“This weaving process makes the spokes stand 
out like wheel spokes, doesn’t it?” 

“That’s why they’re called spokes. By the time 
you’ve been round three times they ought all to be 
standing apart evenly.” 

“Please, ma’am, my raffia is giving out,” grum- 
bled Tom. 

“It’s time to use a rattan weaver, then. You used 
raffia at first because the spokes were so near to- 
gether. Now you use a fine rattan, finer than your 
spokes. Wet it first. Then catch it behind a spoke 
and hold on to it carefully until you come to the sec- 
ond time round or it will slip away from you. 
You’re all right as soon as the second row holds the 
first row in place.” 

“My rattan weaver is giving out,” said Ethel 
Brown.” 

“Take another one and lap it over the end of the 
one that is on the point of death, then go right ahead. 
If they’re too fat at the ends shave them down a 
bit where they lap.” 

“This superb creation of mine is three inches 
across the middle,” announced James. 

“It’s time to turn up the spokes then. Make up 


FOR SANTA CLAUS’S PACK 187 

your mind how sharply you want the basket to flare 
and watch it as you weave, or you’ll have it uneven.” 

“Mine seems to have reached a good height for 
a small work basket,” decided Helen, her head on 
one side. 

“Mine isn’t quite so high, but I can seem to see 
a few choice candies of Ethel Brown’s concoction 
resting happily within its walls,” said Tom. 

“Let’s all make the border. Measure the spokes 
and cut them just three inches beyond the top of the 
weaving. You’ll have to sharpen their tips a little 
or else you’ll have trouble pushing them down among 
the weavers.” 

“I get the idea! You bend them into scallops!” 

“Wet them first or there’ll be broken fence pickets. 
When you’ve soaked them until they’re pliable 
enough bend each spoke over to make a scallop and 
thrust it down right beside its neighbor spoke be- 
tween the weavers.” 

“Mine is more than ever a work basket,” said 
Helen when she had completed the edge. “I shall 
line it with brown and fit it up with a thimble and 
threads and needles and a tiny pair of scissors.” 

“Mine, too,” was Ethel Brown’s decision. 

“My sides turn up too sharply,” James thought. 
“I shall call mine a cover for a small flower pot. 
Then I shan’t have to line it !” 

“Here are some of the most easily made mats and 
baskets in the world,” announced Della. “They’re 
made just like the braided rugs you find in farm 
houses in New England. Mother got some in New 
Hampshire once before we started going to Chau- 
tauqua for the summers.” 

“I’ve seen them,” said Margaret. “There are 


1 88 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


yards and yards of rags cut all the same width and 
sewed together and then they are braided and then 
the braid is sewed round and round.” 

“You make raffia mats or baskets in just the same 
way, only you sew them with raffia,” explained Della. 

“You braid the raffia first 
and that gives you an op- 
portunity to make pretty 
color combinations.” 

“A strand of raffia 
doesn’t last forever. How 
do you splice it?” 

“Splice a thick end 
alongside of a thin end 
and go ahead. Try to 
pick out strands of differ- 
ent lengths for your plait- 
ing or they’ll all run out 
at once and have to be 
spliced at once and it may 
make them bunchy if you 
aren’t awfully careful.” 

“I saw a beauty basket 
once made of corn husks 
braided in the same way. 
The inside husks are a 
delicate color you know, and they were split into 
narrow widths and plaited into a long rope.” 

“Where the long leaf pine grows,” said Dorothy, 
“they use pine needles in the same way, only they 
wrap them around with thread — ” 

“Cotton thread?” 

“Cotton thread — of about the same color.” 



The braid for easily made 
rugs and baskets 


FOR SANTA CLAUS’S PACK 189 

“You can work sweet grass just so, except that you 
can wrap that with a piece of itself.” 

“When you have enough material,” went on Della, 
“you begin the sewing. If you’re going to make a 
round or an oblong mat you decide which right at 
the beginning and coil the centre accordingly. Then 
all you have to do is to go ahead. Don’t let the 
stitches show and sew on until the mat is big 
enough.” 

“And for a basket I suppose you pile the braids 
upon each other when you’ve made the bottom the 
size you want it.” 

“Exactly. And you can make the sides flare 
sharply or slightly just as we made them do with the 
rattan.” 

“What’s the matter with making baskets of 
braided crepe paper?” asked James. “My whole 
being has been wrapped in paper for a week so it 
may influence my inventive powers unduly, but I 
really don’t see why it shouldn’t work.” 

“I’m sorry to take you off your perch,” remarked 
Ethel Brown, “but I’ve seen one.” 

“O — oh!” wailed James in disappointment. 
“They were pretty though, weren’t they?” 

“They were beauties. There was a lovely color 
combination in the one I saw.” 

“You could make patriotic ones for Fourth of 
July — red, white, and blue.” 

“Or green and red ones for Christmas.” 

“Or all white for Easter.” 

“Or pinky ones for May Day.” 

Just at this moment there came a rush of small 
feet and Dicky burst into the room. 


190 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“Hullo,” he exclaimed briefly. 

“Hullo,” cried a chorus In return. 

“I’ve seen her,” said Dicky. 

“Who is ‘her’ ?” asked Roger. 

“Fraulein.” 

“Fraulein! Dicky, what have you been doing?” 

Helen seized him by the arm and drew him to the 
side of her chair, while all the other members of 
the Club laid down their work and listened. 

Dicky was somewhat embarrassed at being the ob- 
ject of such undivided attention. He climbed up 
into Helen’s lap. 

“I heard you talking at breakfatht about Fraulein 
and how thomebody perhapth wath dead and per- 
hapth wathn’t dead, tho I went and athked her if 
he wath dead.” 

“Oh, Dicky!” 

Helen buried her face In his bobbed hair, and the 
rest of the Mortons looked at each other aghast. 

“We were wondering if it would be an intrusion 
to send Fraulein some flowers,” explained Helen, — 
“and—” 

“ — and here Dicky butts right In 1” finished Roger. 

“I went to the houthe and I rang the bell,” con- 
tinued Dicky, “and an old lady came to the door.” 

“Mrs. HIndenburg.” 

“I thald ‘Ith Mith Fraulein at home?’ The old 
lady thaid ‘Yeth.’ I walked in and there wath Mith 
Fraulein In front of the fire. I thaid, ‘Ith he 
dead?’ ” 

“You asked her?” 

“Great Scott!” 

“Fraulein thaid, ‘I don’t know, Dicky.’ And I 
thaid. ‘Here Ith a chethnut I found. You can have 


FOR SANTA CLAUS’S PACK 


191 

it.’ And Frauleln thaid, Thank you, Dicky,’ and 
I that on her lap and the talked to me a long time 
about the man that perhapth ith dead, and thome- 
timeth the thaid queer wordth — ” 

“German,” interpreted Margaret under her 
breath. 

“And onthe the cried a little, and — ” 

“Dicky, Dicky, what have you done!” 

“I ain’t done anything bad, ‘coth when I thaid, 
‘Now" I mutht go,’ the old lady thaid, ‘Thank you 
for coming.’ ” 

“She did?” 

“Perhaps it did Fraulein good to cry. Poor 
Fraulein I” 

“Pm going again.” 

“Did she ask you?” 

“Of courth the athked me. And I thaid I’d go 
if the’d wear a white dreth. I don’t like a black 
dreth.” 

Silence reigned about the table. 

“I wish I knew whether he’s done harm or good,” 
sighed Helen. 

“Good, I should say, or Fraulein’s mother 
wouldn’t have asked him to come again,” said Ethel 
Blue. 

“At this uncertain moment I think we’d better 
have some refreshments,” said Dorothy. 

“I’m certainly in need of something sustaining,” 
groaned Roger. 

“Then try these sugar cookies of Ethel Brown’s.” 

“Let me write down right now how she makes 
them,” exclaimed Della, borrowing a pencil from 
Tom. “This is the kind you’re going to make for 
the orphans, isn’t it?” 


192 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“Yes, they’ll keep a long time, especially if they’re 
wrapped in paraffin paper and put into a tin.” 

“Recite the rule to me.” 

“I never can remember rules. Dorothy’s got it 
copied into her cook book. Ask her for it.” 

“Here you are,” said Dorothy who had overheard 
the conversation, “here on page twenty. And I 
know you’re going to ask for the fudge receipt as 
soon as you taste Ethel Blue’s fudge so you might 
as well copy that at the same time. It’s on the next 
page.” 

So Della copied diligently while Dorothy brought 
in the cookies and fudge in question and Helen and 
Roger discussed Dicky’s performance under their 
breath. 

Here is what Della wrote : 

“Sugar Cookies or Sand Tarts 

“i cup butter 

2 cups sugar 

2 eggs 

cups flour 

4 teaspoons baking powder 
Extra whites of 2 eggs 
cups blanched almonds, chopped. 

2 tablespoons sugar — extra 

teaspoon cinnamon 

“Blanch the almonds by putting them in boiling 
water, let them stand on the table five minutes, re- 
move a few at a time from the water, rub off the skin 
and dry them in a towel; then chop them. 

“Cream the butter, add the sugar gradually, then 
the beaten eggs. Sift flour and baking powder to- 



Kind hands were helping Frdulein” 


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FOR SANTA CLAUS’S PACK 


193 


gather, add to the butter mixture gradually, using 
a knife to cut it in. Add the nuts. If stiff and dry 
add a few tablespoons milk to moisten slightly, and 
mould into a dough with the hands. Roll out por- 
tions quite thin, on a floured board, cut out with a 
cutter, brush with the extra whites, slightly beaten. 
Mix the cinnamon and the two extra tablespoons 
sugar together, sprinkle over the cookies. Place 
on a greased tin, bake about five minutes in a mod- 
erately hot oven.” 


“Fudge 

“3 cups brown or white sugar 
I cup milk or water 
I tablespoon butter 

3 squares (inch) chocolate (about >4 cup 
grated) 

teaspoon vanilla 

“Mix sugar, milk, butter and chocolate in a sauce- 
pan; let it melt slowly; bring to a boil and boil about 
ten minutes, or until a little forms a soft ball when 
dropped in a cup of cold water. Add the vanilla, 
stir a few minutes until slightly thick, turn at once 
into greased tin plates. Cool and cut into blocks. 
If it crumbles and is sugary, add half a cup or more 
hot water, melt, boil again, and try as before. If it 
should not be hard enough it may be boiled a second 
time.” 


29 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE CLUB WEAVES, STENCILS AND MODELS CLAY 


HETHER Dicky had done something en- 



tirely inexcusable or something wise no one 


was able to decide, but everybody agreed that at any 
rate it was pleasanter to think that he had brought 
poor Fraulein some comfort, and that her mother’s 
thanking him for coming seemed to mean that. 
They all felt somewhat shocked and queer. 

“I move. Madam President,” said Tom, “that 
we don’t talk about it any more this afternoon. AVe 
don’t know and probably we never shall know, and 
so we might as well get to work again. Did you 
people realize that time is growing short? The 
Santa Claus Ship is booked to sail the first week in 
November.” 

“We did and do realize it,” said Helen. “I’d 
like to know next about these rafiia sofa pillows that 
Ethel Blue and Della have been making.” 

“The ones we made are sofa pillows for the or- 
phans’ dolls,” explained Ethel Blue, “or they can be 
used for pincushions.” 

“They make thothe at kindergarten,” announced 
Dicky. “I can make thothe. Mine are paper.” 

“They’re made in just about the same way,” said 
Della. “We made a small cushion with double 
raffia and wove it under and over on a pasteboard 
loom.” 

“How do you make that?” 

194 


THE CLUB WEAVES 


195 


“Just a piece of heavy pasteboard or a light board 
or you can take the frame of a smashed slate. You 
fasten the ends of the threads with pins or tacks or 
tie them around the bars. First you lay all the 
threads you want in one direction. That’s the 
warp.” 

“Warp — I remember. I always have to look it 
up in the dictionary to see which is warp and which 
is woof.” 

“Warp is the thread that goes on first. In a rug 
or a piece of tapestry it’s the plain, ugly thread that 
holds the beautifully colored threads in place. It’s 
the up and down threads. In raffia you have to be 
careful to alternate the big ends and small ends so 
that the weaving will be even.” 

“What do you do when the warp is ready?” 

“Before you begin to weave you must make a 
solid line across the end so that when you run your 
first bit of woof across it won’t just push right up 
to the bar of the loom and then ravel out when you 
cut your product off the loom.” 

“I get the reason for its existence. I should 
think you’d make it by tying a string right across the 
loom knotting it into each strand of warp as you pass 
by.” 

“That’s exactly what you do ; and the ends you can 
leave flying to join in with the fringe.” 

“Can we weave now?” 

“Go ahead. When you’ve made the cushion 
square, if you want it square, go around the three re- 
maining sides and tie a break-water, so to speak, so 
that the weaving won’t ravel out. Trim your fringe 
even and there’s one side of your pillow.” 

“One side would be enough for a pincushion.” 


196 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“If you want to make a big sofa cushion — a grown 
up one — you’ll have to make a wide plait of raffia 
— a four strand or six strand braid — or else you’d 
never get it done.” 

“The unbraided would be too delicate. I hate 
to make things that wear out before you can get 
used to them about the house.” 

“You’d have to have a bigger loom for something 
that size.” 

“It’s no trouble to make. Roger nailed mine to- 
gether,” said Ethel Blue. 

“Any one want the dimensions?” asked Roger. 
“Take two pieces of narrow wood twenty-three 
inches long, and nail two other pieces of lighter stuff 
each twenty-five inches long on to their tops at the 
ends. These bits are raised from the table by the 
thickness of the first piece of lumber. See?” 

Tom and James, who were examining Ethel Blue’s 
loom, nodded. 

“Then nail slender uprights, ten inches tall, at 
each of the four corners and connect them by two 
other thin sticks twenty-five inches long, running 
just above your first pair of twenty-fives. Do you 
get it?” 

Again the boys nodded. 

“That’s all there is to it, and you really don’t need 
to make that for a plain, smooth plank will do at a 
pinch.” 

“How do you carry your woof across?” asked 
Margaret. “Your hand would be in its own way, 
I should think.” 

“You thread the raffia into a wooden bodkin about 
twenty-six inches long.” 

“I can see that you must draw the cross threads 


THE CLUB WEAVES 197 

down tight the way we did in weaving the baskets,” 
said Janies. 

“Indeed you must or you’ll turn out a sleazy piece 
of weaving,” answered Della. 

“There must be oceans of articles you can make 
out of woven raffia.” 

“Just about everything that you can make out of 
a piece of cloth of the same size.” 

“Of cotton cloth? Hal” 

“Or silk.” 

“Handkerchief cases and collar cases.” 

“Coverings for boxes of all kinds. Another ma- 
terial for James to glue on to pasteboard.” 

“I see lots of chances for it,” he answered se- 
riously. 

“I believe old James is really taking kindly to 
pasting,” laughed Tom. 

“Certainly I am. It’s a bully occupation,” de- 
fended James. 

“There are a thousand things that can be made of 
raffia — you can make lace of it like twine lace, and 
make articles out of the lace; and you can make 
baskets of a combination of rattan and raffia, using 
the raffia for wrapping and for sewing. But we 
have such a short time left that I think those of us 
who are going to do any raffia work had better learn 
how to weave evenly and make pretty little duds out 
of the woven stuff.” 

“Wise kid,” pronounced Roger. “Now what’s 
little Margaret going to teach us this afternoon?” 

“Little Margaret” made a puckered face at this 
appellation, but she came promptly to the front. 

“Ethel Brown and Dorothy have been teaching 
me to stencil. They could teach the rest of you a 


198 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

great deal better than I can, but they’ve done their 
share this afternoon so I’ll try.” 

“Go on,” urged Ethel Brown. “We’ll help you 
if you forget.” 

“If you’ll excuse me I’ll go to the attic and get 
my clay,” said Dorothy. “I found a new idea for 
a candlestick in a book this morning and I want to 
make one before I forget it.” 

Margaret was in the full swing of explanation 
when Dorothy returned. 

“Why this frown, fair Coz?” demanded Roger 
in a Shakesperean tone. 

“It’s the queerest thing — I thought I had enough 
clay for two pairs of candlesticks and it seems to 
have shrunk or something so there’ll only be one 
and that mighty small.” 

“ ^Mighty small/ ” mimicked Roger. “How 
large is ^mighty small’?” 

“Don’t bother me, Roger. I’ll start this while 
Margaret talks.” 

“When a drawing fit seizes Ethel Blue again we’ll 
get her to make us some original stencils,” said 
Helen. “These that we bought at the Chautauqua 
art store will do well enough for us to learn with.” 

“They are very pretty,” defended Dorothy. 

“Mine won’t be any better, only they will be orig- 
inal,” said Ethel Blue. 

“I hate to mention it,” said Tom in a whisper, 
“but I’m not perfectly sure that I know what a sten- 
cil is.” 

There was a shout from around the table. 

“Never mind, Thomas,” soothed Roger, patting 
his friend on the shoulder. “Confession is good for 
the soul. A stencil, my son, is a thin sheet of some- 


THE CLUB WEAVES 


199 


thing — pasteboard, the girls use — with a pattern cut 
out of it. You lay the stencil down on a piece of 
cloth or canvas or board or whatever you want to 
decorate, and you scrub color on all the part of the 
material that shows through.” 

“Methinks I see a great light,” replied Tom, slap- 
ping his forehead. “When you lift the stencil there 
is your pattern done in color.” 

Roger and James leaned forward together and 
patted Tom’s brow. 

“Such it is to have real intellect!” they murmured 
in admiring accents. 

Tom bowed meekly. 

“Enlighten me further — also these smarties. 
What kind of paint do you use?” 

“Tapestry dyes or oil paints. It depends some- 
what on your material. If you want to launder it, 
use the dye.” 

“Fast color, eh?” 

“When you wash it, set the color by soaking 
your article in cold water salted. Then wash it 
gently in the suds of white soap. Suds, mind you; 
don’t touch the cake of soap to it.” 

“I promise you solemnly I’ll never touch a cake 
of soap to any stenciling I do.” 

“You’re ridiculous, Roger. No, I believe you 
won’t I” 

“Here’s a piece of cloth Ethel Brown is going to 
make into a doll’s skirt. See, she’s hemmed it al- 
ready and I’ll put this simple star stencil on the 
hem. Where’s a board, Dorothy?” 

Dorothy brought a sewing board and the others 
watched Margaret pin her material down hard upon 
it and fasten the stencil over that. 


200 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“Good girl ! You’ve got them so tight they won’t 
dare to shiver,” declared Tom. 

“Do you notice that this stencil has been shel- 
lacked so the edges won’t roughen when I scrub? 
Stiff bristle brushes are what I’m using.” Margaret 
called their attention to her utensils. “And I have 
a different brush for each color. Also I have an 
old rag to dabble the extra color off on to.” 

“Are you ready? Go!” commanded Roger. 



“I’ll put this simple star stencil on the hem” 


Margaret scrubbed hard and succeeded in get- 
ting a variety of shading through the amount of paint 
that she allowed to soak entirely through or part 
way through the material. When she had done as 
many stars as there were openings on the pattern 
she took out the pins and moved the stencil along so 
that the holes came over a fresh piece of material, 
making sure that the space between the .first new 
star and the last old one was the same as that be- 
tween the stars on the stencil. 

“How can we boys apply that?” asked James. 

“You can stencil on anything that you would dec- 
orate with painting,” said Ethel Brown. 

“Your jig-saw disks, Tom. Stencil a small con- 
ventional pattern on each one — a star or a triangle.’^ 


THE CLUB WEAVES 


201 


“Here’s a stencil of a vine that would be a beauty- 
on one of your large plain pasteboard boxes, James.” 

“Dorothy has been turning white cheesecloth doll 
clothes into organdie muslins by stenciling on them 
these tiny sprays of roses and cornflowers and jas- 
mine.” 

“I’m going to do roosters and cats and dogs on a 
lot of bibs for the babies.” 

“You’d better save a few in case Mademoiselle 
really sends us that Belgian baby.” 

“I’ll make some more if it does turn up.” 

“Aunt Marion gave me some cotton flannel — ” 

“Cot— ton!” 

“Cotton flannel, yes, sir; and I’ve made it into 
some little blankets for tiny babies. I bound the 
raw edges, and on some of them I did a cross stitch 
pattern and on others I stenciled a pattern.” 

“It saves time, I should say.” 

“Lots. When you have ever so many articles 
gathered, just have a stenciling bee and you can turn 
out the decoration much faster than by doing even 
a wee bit of embroidery.” 

“If the Belgian baby really comes, let’s make it 
a play-house. The boys can do the carpentry and 
we can all make the furniture and I’m wild to sten- 
cil some cunning curtains for the windows.” 

“I’ll draw you a fascinating pattern for it.” 

“There’s my candlestick half done,” said Dor- 
othy mournfully, “and I can’t finish it. I don’t 
understand about that clay.” 

“Perhaps it* dried up and blew away.” 

“It did dry, but I moistened it and kneaded it and 
cut it in halves with a wire and put the inside edges 
outside and generally patticaked it but I’m sure it’s 


202 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


not more than a quarter the size it was when I left 
it in the attic yesterday afternoon.” 

“You seem to have made a great mess on the 
floor over there by the window; didn’t you slice off 
some and put it in that cup?” 

“That’s my ‘slip.’ It only took a scrap to make 
that. It’s about as thick as cream and you use it to 
smooth rough places and fill up cracks with. No, 
that wouldn’t account for much of any of the clay.” 

“How did you make this thing, anyway?” asked 
James turning it about. 

“Careful. I took a saucer and put a wet rag In 
It and then I made a clay snake and coiled it about 
the way you make those coiled baskets, only 
I smoothed the clay so you can’t see the coils. I 
hollowed it on the inside like a saucer. Then I put 
another wet rag inside my clay saucer and a china 
saucer Inside that and turned them all upside down 
on my work board, and took off the original china 
saucer and smoothed down the coils on the under- 
side of the clay saucer.” 

Tom drew a long breath. 

“Take one yourself,” he suggested. “You’ll 
need it, you talk so fast.” 

“It stiffened while Margaret was doing her 
stenciling. When it was firm enough to handle I 
turned it over again and took out the small china 
saucer and smoothed off any marks It had left.” 

“It’s about time to build up the candle holder, 
Isn’t It?” 

“Did you see me bring In a short candle? I 
wrapped it In a wet rag and stood It exactly In the 
middle of the clay saucer. Then I roughened the 
clay around It and wet the rough part with slip and 




Dorothy’s Candlestick 


204 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

pressed a fresh little snake round the foot of the 
candle. The slip makes it stick to the roughening, 
so you have to roughen the top of every coil and 
moisten it with slip.” 

‘Tou finished off the top of that part very 
smoothly,” complimented Helen. 

“When it’s stiff enough you take out the candle 
and smooth the inside. Here’s where I’m stumped. 
I haven’t got enough clay for a handle.” 

“How do you make the handle?” 

“Pat out another snake and make a hoop at- 
tached to the holder and another one rolling up on 
to the lip of the saucer.” 

“As if the serpent were trying to put his tail into 
his mouth.” 

“I shall have to just smooth this over with a soft 
brush and wrap it up in a wet cloth until I get some 
more clay. If I let it get hard I can’t finish it.” 

“What’s that drip, Dorothy?” asked Helen, as a 
drop of water fell on the table before her. 

They all looked at the ceiling where drops of 
water were assembling and beginning to fall with a 
soft splash. There was a scramble to get their 
work out of the way. Dorothy brought a salad 
bowl and placed it where it would catch the water 
and then ran to investigate the cause of the trouble. 

At a cry from upstairs Helen and the Ethels ran 
to her help. Roger went to the foot of the stairs 
and called up to inquire if they wanted his assist- 
ance. Evidently they did, for he,, too, disappeared. 
In a few minutes he re-appeared bearing Dicky in 
his arms — a Dicky sopping wet and much subdued. 

“What in the world?” everybody questioned. 

“Dorothy’s found her clay,” said Roger. “Come 


THE CLUB WEAVES 


205 


on, old man. Wrap Aunt Louise’s tweed coat 
around you — so — and run so you won’t catch cold,” 
and the two boys disappeared out of the front door, 
Dicky stumbling and struggling with the voluminous 
folds of his aunt’s garment. 

Dorothy and the other girls came down stairs in 
a few minutes. 

“Do telephone to Aunt Marlon’s and see if 
Mother Is there and ask her to come home,” Dorothy 
begged Helen, while she gathered cloths and pans 
and went upstairs again, taking the maid with her. 

“What did Dicky do?” asked the others again. 

Both Ethels burst Into laughter. 

“He must have gone up In the attic and found 
Dorothy’s clay, for he had filled up the waste pipe of 
the bath tub — ” 

“ — and turned on the water, I’ll bet I” exclaimed 
Tom. 

“That’s just what he did. It looks as If he’d been 
trying to float about everything he could find in any 
of the bedrooms.” 

“Probably he had a glorious time until the tub 
ran over and he didn’t know how to stop It.” 

“Dicky’s a great old man I I judge he didn’t 
float himself!” 

“Now Dorothy can finish her candlestick han- 
dle!” 


CHAPTER XVIII 

ETHEL BLUE AWAITS A CABLE 

M rs. smith begged that the meeting should 
not adjourn, and under her direction the 
trouble caused by Dicky’s entrance into the navy was 
soon remedied, although it was evident that the 
ceiling of the dining-room would need the attention 
of a professional. 

Roger soon returned with the news that the 
honorary member of the Club had taken no cold, 
and every one settled down to work again, even 
Dorothy, who rescued enough clay from Dicky’s 
earthworks to complete the handle of her candle- 
stick. 

“I’d like to bring a matter before this meeting,” 
said Tom seriously when they were all assembled 
and working once more. 

“Bring it on,” urged the president. 

“It isn’t a matter belonging to this Club, but if 
there isn’t any one else to do it it seemed to me — 
and to Father when I spoke to him about it — that 
we might do some good.” 

“It sounds mysterious. Let’s have it,” said 
James. 

“It seemed to me as I thought over those movies 
the other night that there was a very good chance 
that that man Schuler — your singing teacher, you 
know, Fraulein’s betrothed — wasn’t dead after all.” 
206 


ETHEL BLUE AWAITS A CABLE 207 

“It certainly looked like it — the way he fell back 
against the orderly — he didn’t look alive.” 

“He didn’t — that’s a fact. At the same time the 
film made one of those sudden changes right at that 
instant.” 

“Father and I thought that was so a death scene 
shouldn’t be shown,” said James. 

“That’s possible, but it’s also possible that they 
thought that was a good dramatic spot to leave that 
group of people and go off to another group.” 

“What’s your idea? I don’t suppose we could 
find out from the film people.” 

“Probably not. It would be too roundabout to 
try to get at their operator in Belgium and very 
likely he wouldn’t remember if they did get in touch 
with him.” 

“He must be seeing sights like that all the time.” 

“Brother Edward suggested when he heard us 
talking about it that we should send a cable to Made- 
moiselle and ask her. She must have known Mr. 
Schuler here in the school at Rosemont.” 

“Certainly she did.” 

“Then she would have been interested enough 
in him to recall what happened when she came across 
him in the hospital.” 

“How could we get a message to her? We don’t 
know where that hospital was. They don’t tell the 
names of places even in newspaper messages, you 
know. They are headed ‘From a town near the 
front.’ ” 

“Here’s where Edward had a great idea — that 
is. Father thought it was workable. See what you 
think of it.” 

The Club was growing excited. [The Ethels 


2o8 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


stopped working to listen, Helen’s face flushed with 
interest, and the boys leaned across the table to hear 
the plan to which Rev. Herbert Watkins had given 
his approval. They knew that Tom’s father, in his 
work among the poor foreigners in New York, often 
had to try to hunt up their relatives in Europe so that 
this would not be a matter of guesswork with him. 

“It’s pretty much guesswork in this war time,” 
admitted Tom when some one suggested it. “You 
can merely send a cable and trust to luck that it will 
land somewhere. Here’s Edward’s idea. He says 
that the day we went to see Mademoiselle sail she 
told him that she was related to Monsieur Mille- 
rand, the French Minister of War. It was through 
her relationship with him that she expected to be 
sent where she wanted to go — that is, to Belgium.” 

“She was sent there, so her expectation seems to 
have had a good foundation.” 

“That’s what makes Edward think that perhaps 
we can get in touch with her through the same 
means.” 

“Through Monsieur Millerand?” 

“He suggests that we send a cable addressed to 
Mademoiselle — ” 

“Justine — ” 

“ — Millerand in the care of Monsieur Millerand, 
Minister of War. We could say ‘Is Schuler dead?’ 
and sign it with some name she’d know in Rosemont. 
She’d understand at once that in some way news of 
his being in Belgium had reached here.” 

“It seems awfully uncertain.” 

“It is uncertain. Even if she got the cable she 
might not be able to send a reply. Everything is 
uncertain about it. At the same time if we could 


ETHEL BLUE AWAITS A CABLE 209 

get an answer it would be a comfort to Fraulein even 
if the message said he had died.” 

“I believe that’s so. It’s not knowing that’s hard- 
est to bear.” 

“Don’t you think Mademoiselle would have sent 
word to Fraulein if he had died?” 

“I don’t believe she knew they were engaged. 
No one knew until after the war had been going on 
for several weeks. If ever she wrote to any one in 
Rosemont she might mention having seen him, but I 
don’t believe it would occur to her to send any special 
word to Fraulein.” 

“She might be put under suspicion if she addressed 
a letter to any one with a German name even if she 
lived in the United States.” 

“No one but Ethel Blue has had a letter from 
Mademoiselle since she left,” said Helen. “We 
should have heard of it. I’m sure.” 

“Well, what do you say to the plan? Can’t we 
send a cable signed by the ‘Secretary of the United 
Service Club ’ ? ” 

“I think it would be a good use to put the Club 
money to,” approved James, the treasurer. 

“If you say so I’ll send it when I get back to New 
York this afternoon. How shall we word it?” 

“Mademoiselle Justine Millerand, Care Mon- 
sieur Millerand, Minister of War, Bordeaux, 
France,” said Roger, slowly. 

“Cut out ‘Mademoiselle’ and ‘Monsieur,’ ” sug- 
gested Margaret. “We must remember that our 
remarks cost about a quarter a word in times of 
peace and war prices may be higher.” 

“Cut out ‘of War,’ ” said Ethel Brown. 

“There’s only one ‘Bordeaux,’ ” added Margaret. 

30 


210 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“A dollar and a quarter saved already,” said 
James thoughtfully. “Now let’s have the message.” 

“What’s the matter with Tom’s original sugges- 
tion — Ts Schuler dead’?” asked Ethel Blue. “I 
suppose we must leave out the ‘Mr.’ if we are going 
to be economical.” 

“Sign it ‘Morton, Secretary United Service Club, 
Rosemont.’ I’ll file Ethel Blue’s address — at the 
cable office so the answer will be sent to her if one 
comes.” 

Ethel Blue looked somewhat agitated at the pros- 
pect of receiving a cable almost from the battlefield, 
but she said nothing. 

“The United Service Club was the last group of 
people she saw in America, you see,” Tom went on, 
“so Edward thinks she’ll know at once whom the 
message comes from and she’ll guess that the high 
school scholars want to know about their former 
teacher.” 

“I have a feeling in my bones that she’ll get the 
message and that she’ll answer,” said Ethel Blue. 

“If she doesn’t get it we shan’t have done any 
harm,” mused Ethel Brown, “and if she does get it 
and answers then we shall have done a lot of good 
by getting the information for Fraulein.” 

“We needn’t tell anybody about it outside of our 
families and then there won’t be any expectations to 
be disappointed.” 

“It certainly would be best not to tell Fraulein.” 

“That’s settled, then,” said Tom, “and I’ll send 
the message the moment I reach town this after- 
noon.” 

“It’s the most thrilling thing I ever had anything 
to do with,” Ethel Blue whispered. 


CHAPTER XIX 


LEATHER AND BRASS 

T he following week was filled with expectation 
of a reply from Mademoiselle, but none came 
though every ring at the Mortons’ doorbell was 
answered with the utmost promptness by one or an- 
other of the children who made a point of rushing 
to the door before Mary could reach it. 

“I suppose we could hardly expect to have a re- 
ply,” sighed Ethel Blue, “but it would have been so 
splendiferous if it did come !” 

Thanks to Dicky’s escapade the last Saturday 
afternoon had been so broken in upon that the Club 
decided that they must have an all-day session on 
the next Saturday. Roger had promised to teach 
the others how to do the leather and brass work in 
which he had become quite expert, and he was talk- 
ing to himself about it as he was dressing after doing 
his morning work. 

“This business of working in leather for orphan 
children makes a noise like toil to me,” he solilo- 
quized. “But think of the joy of the kids when they 
receive a leather penwiper, though they aren’t yet 
old enough to write, or a purse when they haven’t 
any shekels to put into it!” 

“Ro — ger,” came a voice from a long way ofi. 
“Let’s go over to Dorothy’s now,” Roger called 
back as if it had been Ethel Brown who was late. 

“I should say so! The Watkinses and Hancocks 
211 


212 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


said they’d be there at ten and it must be that now. 
I’ll call Ethel Blue and Helen,” and Ethel Brown’s 
voice came from a greater distance than before. 

The other girls were not to be discovered, how- 




ever, and when Roger and Ethel arrived at Dor- 
othy’s they found all the rest waiting for them. 

“Where’s this professor of leather?” called Tom 
as he heard Roger’s steps on the attic stairs. 

*‘And brass,” added Roger grandly as he appeared 
in the doorway. 


LEATHER AND BRASS 


213 


“No one disputes the brass,” returned Tom, and 
Roger roared cheerfully and called out “Bull’s-eye !” 

“Now, then,” began Roger seating himself at the 
head of the table, “with apologies to the president 
I’ll call this solemn meeting to order — that is, as 
much order as there can be with Dicky around.” 

Dicky was even then engaged in trying to make a 
hole in Ethel Blue’s shoe with a leather punch, but he 
was promptly suppressed and placed between the 
Ethels before his purpose was accomplished. 

“You’ve got him interned there,” remarked James, 
using a phrase that was becoming customary in the 
newspaper accounts of the care of prisoners. 

“I’m going to start you people making corners for 
a big blotting pad,” said Roger, “not because the 
orphans will want a blotting pad, but because they 
are easy to make and you can adapt the idea to lots 
of other articles.” 

“Fire ahead,” commanded James. 

“You make a paper pattern to fit your corner — so 
fashion,” and Roger tore a sheet of paper off a pad 
and cut a slip ten inches long and four inches wide. 
A point in the middle of the long side he placed on 
the corner of the big blotter that lay before him and 
then he folded the rest of the paper around the 
corner. The result was a smooth triangle on the 
face of the blotter and a triangle at the back just 
like it except that it was split up the middle. 

“Here’s your pattern,” said Roger slipping it off. 
“When you make this of brass or copper it’s a good 
plan to round these back corners so there won’t be 
any sharp points to stick into you or to scratch the 
desk.” 

“The orphans’ mahogany.” 


214 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“Or Grandfather Emerson’s. I’m going to inflict 
a set on him at Christmas.” 

“I should think it would be hard to work on such 
dinky little things,” remarked James who had large 
hands. 

“You don’t cut them out of your big sheet of cop- 
per or your big piece of leather yet. You draw the 
size of this small pattern on to a larger piece of 
paper and you draw your ornamental design right 
where you want it on the face of the triangle — so.” 

“More work for Ethel Blue, making original de- 
signs.” 

“She might get up some U. S. C. designs and have 
them copyrighted,” suggested Helen. 

“Until she does we’ll have to use these simple fig- 
ures that I traced out of a book the other day.” 

“Why couldn’t we use our stenciling designs?” 

“You could, if they are the right size. That 
star pattern you put on a doll’s skirt would be just 
the ticket — just one star for each corner.” 

“We might put U. S. C. in each comer.” 

“Or U. in one corner and S. in another, and C. in 
a third and a star or something in the fourth.” 

“Or the initials of the person you give it to.” 

“We’ve got the size of the corner piece as it is 
when it’s unfolded and with its design on it, all drawn 
on this piece of paper. Now you tack your sheet 
of brass on to a block of wood and lay a sheet of 
carbon paper over it and your design on that and 
trace ahead.” 

“I see, I see,” commented Margaret. “When you 
take it off, there you have the size of your corner in- 
dicated and the star or whatever you’re going to 
ornament it with, all drawn in the right place.” 


LEATHER AND BRASS 


215 


“Exactly. Now we tackle the brass itself.” 

“It seems to me we ought to have some tools for 
that.” 

“A light hammer and a wire nail — that’s all. See 
the point of this nail? It has been filed flat and 
rather dull. I made enough for everybody to have 
one — not you, sir,” and he snatched away one of 
them from Dicky just as that young man was about 
to nail Ethel Brown’s dress on to the edge of her 
chair. 

“Dicky will have to be interned at home if he 
isn’t quiet.” The president shook her head at the 
honorary member. 

“First you go around the whole outline, tapping 
the nail gently, stroke by stroke, until the line of the 
design is completely hammered in.” 

“That isn’t hard,” said Tom. “Watch me.” 

“When the outline is made you take another wire 
nail that has been filed perfectly flat on the bottom 
and go over the whole background with it.” 

“I see, I see,” cried Ethel Blue. “That makes 
the design stand out puffily and smooth against a 
sort of motheaten background.” 

“For eloquent description commend me to Ethel 
Blue,” declared Margaret. 

“She’s right, though. You can make the moth 
holes of different size by using nails of different 
sizes. There are regular tools that come, too, with 
different pounding surfaces so it’s possible to make 
quite a variety of backgrounds.” 

“This mothy one is pretty enough for me,” de- 
clared Margaret. 

“I don’t much like that name for it, but it is pretty, 
just the same,” insisted Roger. “When you’ve ham- 


2i6 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


mered down the background you take out the tacks 
and cut out your whole corner with this pair of shears 
that is made to cut metal. Then you fold over the 
backs just the way you folded over the paper to find 
the shape originally.” 

“It’s not so terribly easy to bend,” commented 
Ethel Blue. 

“Shape them along the edge of your block of 
wood. Persuade them down — so, and fold them 
back — so. Tap them into place with your wooden 
mallet. There you are.” 

The finished corner was passed from hand to hand 
and duly admired. 

“Rub it shiny with any brass polish, if you like it 
bright,” directed Roger. 

“It’s fashionable for coppers to be dull now,” said 
Helen. 

“You ladies know more about fashions of all sorts 
than I should ever pretend to,” said her brother 
meekly. “I like metals to shine, myself.” 

“What are some of the articles we can start 
in to make now that we know how?” questioned 
Margaret. 

“All sorts of things for the desk — a paper knife 
and a roller blotter and a case to hold the inkwell 
and a clip to keep papers from blowing away. The 
work is just the same, no matter what you’re mak- 
ing. It’s all a matter of getting the outlines of dif- 
ferent objects and then bending them up carefully 
after you’ve hammered the design and got them cut 
out well.” 

“Why can’t you make all sorts of boxes?” asked 
James whose mind had run to boxes ever since his 
week of work upon them. 


LEATHER AND BRASS 


217 

“You can. All sorts and sizes. Line them with 
silk or leather. Leather wears best.” 

“How far is the leather work like the metal 
work?” asked Ethel Brown. “It seemed to be the 
same as far as the point where you tacked them on 
to the wooden block.” 



“It is the same except that you wet the leather 
before you tack it on to the block. When you put 
your design on to the leather you don’t need to use 
carbon paper. Borrow one of Ethel Brown’s knit- 
ting needles and run it over the design that you have 
drawn on the paper placed over the leather, and it 
will leave a tiny groove on the damp leather.” 



21 8 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


“That’s a simple Instrument.” 

“The steel tooler you take next Is simple, too. 
You deepen the groove with Its edge and then take 
the flat part of the tooler and go over every bit of 



LEATHER AND BRASS 


219 

the leather outside of the design, pressing it and 
polishing it with great care.” 

“I suppose that gives the leather a different tex- 
ture.” 



The three cornered purse completed 


“It seems to. It makes the design show more, 
anyway.” 

“I saw a beauty leather mat the other day with a 
cotton boll design that puffed right up from the 
background. 

“The cotton boll caught our little Dorothy’s eye, 


220 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


of course! You make your design puff out by rub- 
bing it on the back with a round headed tool. Your 
mat probably had the puffed up part filled with wax 
so it wouldn’t smash down again when something 
heavy was placed on it.” 

“I think it did; it felt hard.” 

“If you do puff out any part of your pattern you 
have to tool over the design again, because the out- 
line will have lost its sharpness.” 

“The mat I saw was colored.” 

“That’s easy. There are colors that come espe- 
cially for using on leather. You float them on when 
the leather is wet and you can get beautiful effects.” 

“You ought not to cut out your leather corners 
until they are dry, I suppose?” 

“They ought to be thoroughly dry. If you want 
a lining for a purse or a cardcase you can paste in 
either silk or a thin leather. It’s pretty to make 
an openwork design and let the lining show through.” 

“How about sewing purses? It must be hard 
work.” 

“Helen does mine on the machine. She says it 
isn’t much trouble if she goes slowly and takes a few 
stitches back at the ends so they won’t come apart. 
But I’m going to show you how to make a little 
three cornered purse that doesn’t need any sewing — 
only two glove snappers.” 

So simple was this pattern that each of them had 
finished one by the time that Grandmother Emer- 
son’s car came to take them all over to luncheon at 
her house. 


CHAPTER XX 

THE ETHELS COOK TO KEEP 
NOTHER week rolled on and still no reply 



came to the cable that the Club had sent to 


Mademoiselle Millerand. 

“Either she hasn’t received it,” said Ethel Blue, 
who felt a personal interest because it had been 
signed by her as Secretary of the club, “or Mr. 
Schuler is dead and she doesn’t want to tell us.” 

“It’s pretty sure to be one or the other,” said 
Ethel Brown. “I suppose we might as well forget 
that we tried to do anything about it.” 

“Have you heard Roger or Helen say anything 
about Fraulein lately?” 

“Helen said she looked awfully sad and that she 
was wearing black. Evidently she has no hope.” 

“Poor Fraulein !” 

“What are we going to do this week?” 

“I’ve planned the cunningest little travelling bag 
for a doll. It’s a straight strip of leather, tooled in 
a pretty pattern. It’s doubled in halves and there 
is a three-cornered piece let in at the ends to give a 
bit more room.” 

“How do you fasten it?” 

“Like a Boston bag, with a strap that goes over 
the top.” 

“You could run a cord in and out parallel with the 
top and pull it up.” 


222 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


‘T believe I’ll make two and try both ways.” ^ 
“You could make the same pattern only a little 



Bag for a doll, a child or a grown-up 


larger for a wrist bag for an 
older child.” 

“And larger still for a shop- 
ping bag for a grown person.” 

“That’s as useful a pattern 
as Helen’s and Margaret’s 
wrapper pattern ! Do you re- 
alize that this is the week that 
we ought to cook?” 

“Is it? We’ll have to hurry 
fearfully 1 Are you perfectly 
sure the things will keep?” 

“I’ve talked it over several 
times with Miss Dawson, the 
domestic science teacher. She 
has given me some splendid re- 
ceipts and some information 
about packing. She says there won’t be any doubt 
of their travelling all right.” 



THE ETHELS COOK TO KEEP 223 

“We’ll have to cook every afternoon, then. 
We’d better go over the receipts and see if we have 
all the materials we need.” 

“We know about the cookies and the fruit cake 
and the fudge. We’ve made all those such a short 
time ago that we know we have those materials. 
Here are ginger snaps,” she went on, examining her. 
cook book. “We haven’t enough molasses I’m sure, 
and I’m doubtful about the ginger.” 

“Let me see.” 

Ethel Blue read over the receipt. 

“i pt. molasses — dark 
I cup butter 
I tablespoon ginger 
I teaspoon soda 
I teaspoon cinnamon 

“About 2 quarts flour, or enough more to make 
a thick dough. 

“Sift flour, soda, and spices together. Melt the 
butter, put the molasses in a big bowl, add the butter, 
then the flour gradually, using a knife to cut it in. 
When stiff enough to roll, roll out portions quite 
thin on a floured board, cut out with a cookie cutter 
or with the cover of a baking powder can. Place 
them on greased tins, leaving a little space between 
each cookie. Bake in a hot oven about five minutes.” 

“Miss Dawson says we must let the cookies get 
perfectly cold before we pack them. Then we must 
wrap them in paraffin paper and pack them tightly 
into a box.” 

“They ought to be so tight that they won’t rattle 
round and break.” 


224 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“If we could get enough tin boxes It would be 
great.” 

“Let’s ask Grandmother Emerson and Aunt 
Louise and all Mother’s friends to save their biscuit 
boxes for us.” 

“We ought to have thought of asking them before. 
And we must go out foraging for baking powder tins 
to steam the little fruit puddings and the small loaves 
of Boston brown bread in.” 

“What a jolly ideal” 

“Miss Dawson says that when they are cold we 
can slip them out of their tins and brush the bread 
and pudding and cake over with pure alcohol. That 
will kill the mould germs and it will all be evap- 
orated by the time they are opened.” 

“If there is paraffin paper around them, too, and 
they are slipped back into their little round tins it 
seems to me they ought to be as cosy and good as pos- 
sible.” 

“I’m awfully taken with the individual puddings. 
We can make them all different sizes according 
to the size of the tins we get hold of. Doesn’t this 
sound good?” 

Ethel read aloud the pudding receipt with an ap- 
preciative smile. 

“Steamed Fruit Pudding 

“2j^ cups flour 

3 teaspoons baking powder 
teaspoon salt 
teaspoon cinnamon 
Yz teaspoon nutmeg or ginger 
I cup chopped suet 
I cup chopped raisins 


THE ETHELS COOK TO KEEP 225 

34 cup cleaned currants 
I cup water or milk 
I cup molasses (dark) 

“Sift soda, salt, baking powder, and spice with the 
flour, add the suet and fruit, then the molasses and 
milk. Mix well. Fill moulds two-thirds full. 
Steam three hours.” 

“When we do them up we can arrange them so 
that no bundle will contain both a fruit cake and a 
fruit pudding. We must have variety.” 

“I asked particularly about wheat bread. The 
papers say that that is scarce, you know.” 

“Did Miss Dawson say it would travel?” 

“No, she thought it would be as hard as shoe 
leather. But she says the Boston brown bread ought 
to be soft enough even after six weeks. If we can 
make enough small loaves — ” 

“Baking powder tin loaves — ” 

“Yes — to have a loaf of bread and a fruit cake 
or a fruit pudding or a box of cookies — ” 

“That is, one cake — ” 

“ — and some candy in each package that we do up 
it will give variety.” 

“It sounds good to me. We’ll have to hide all 
our things away from Roger.” 

“Listen to this receipt: 

“Boston Brown Bread 

“ I cup rye meal (or flour) 

I cup granulated corn-meal 

1 cup Graham flour 

2 cups sour milk or i cups sweet milk 

or water 


31 


226 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


I teaspoon salt 
% teaspoon soda 
^ cup molasses (dark) 

“Mix and sift the dry ingredients, add molasses 
and milk, stir until well mixed, turn into a well 
greased mould, steam 3J4 hours. The cover should 
be greased before being placed on the mould, then 
tied down with a string, otherwise the bread might 
force off the cover. The mould should never be 
filled more than two-thirds full. For steaming, 
place the mould on a stand (or on nails laid flat) in 
a kettle of boiling water, allowing water to come half 
way up around mould, cover closely, and steam, 
add, as needed, more boiling water.” 

“ ‘Mould’ is polite for baking powder tin.” 

“I wish our family was small enough for us to 
have them. They’re just too dear!” 

“Some time after the Christmas Ship sails let’s 
make some for the family — one for each per- 
son.” 

“That’s a glorious idea. I never do have enough 
on Sunday morning and you know how Roger teases 
every one of us to give him part of ours.” 

“All these ‘eats’ that travel so well will be splendid 
to send for Christmas gifts to people at a distance, 
won’t they? People like Katharine Jackson in Buf- 
falo.” 

“And the Wilson children at Fort Myer,” and 
the Ethels named other young people whom they 
had met at different garrisons and Navy Yards. 

“Here are three kinds of candies that Miss Daw- 
son says ought to travel perfectly if they’re packed 
so they won’t shake about. Here’s ‘Roly Poly’ to 


THE ETHELS COOK TO KEEP 227 

start with. I can see Katharine’s eyes shining over 
that.” 

“And the orphans’, too.” 

Ethel read the receipt. 

“Roly Poly 

“ 2 lbs. brown sugar 

1 cup cream 

2 tablespoons butter 

pint (i cup) chopped figs 

1 cup chopped almonds 

2 cups chopped dates 

I cup citron, cut in pieces 
cup chopped pecans 
cup chopped cherries 
34 cup chopped raisins 

“Cook sugar, cream and butter together until a 
little forms a soft ball when dropped in a cup of cold 
water. Then add the nuts and fruit. Put it all in a 
wet cotton bag, mould into a roll on a smooth sur- 
face. Remove from the bag and cut as desired.” 

“I like the sound of ‘Sea Foam.’ Della tried 
that, and said it was delicious. 

“Sea Foam 

“ 2 cups brown sugar 

34 cup water 

I teaspoon vanilla 

I cup chopped nuts 

I white of egg 

“Beat the white of egg until stiff. Boil the sugar 
and water together until a little forms a soft ball 


228 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


when dropped in a cup of cold water. Add the 
vanilla and nuts, beat this into the white of egg. 
When it stiffens pour it into a greased pan, or drop 
it by spoonsful on the pan.’’ 

“It sounds delicious. When we fill James’s pretty 
boxes with these goodies and tie them with attractive 
paper and cord they are going to look like ‘some’ 
Christmas to these poor little kiddies.” 

“Don’t you wish we could see them open them?” 

“If Mademoiselle would only send that Belgian 
baby we really could.” 

“I’m afraid Mademoiselle has forgotten us ut- 
terly.” 

“It isn’t surprising. But I wish she hadn’t.” 

“We must get plenty of brown sugar. This 
‘Panocha’ calls for it, as well as the ‘Sea Foam’ and 
the ‘Roly Poly.’ ” 

“We’ll have to borrow a corner of Mary’s store- 
room for once.” 

“She won’t mind. She’s as interested as we are 
in the orphans. Let me see how the ‘Panocha’ goes. 

‘Panocha 

“ 2 cups brown sugar 
2 tablespoons butter 
cup milk 

34 cup chopped nuts of any kind. 

“Boil sugar, butter, and milk together until a lit- 
tle forms a soft ball when dropped in a cup of cold 
water. Add the nuts, stir a few moments till 
slightly thick, drop by spoonsful on greased tins, or 
pour it into a greased tin. When cool cut in blocks.” 

The time given by the Ethels to preparing for 


THE ETHELS COOK TO KEEP 229 

their cooking operations was well spent. Never 
once did they have to call on Mary for something 
they had forgotten to order, and each afternoon was 
pronounced a success when it was over and its re- 
sults lay before them. 

“If we just had energy enough we might follow 
the plan that the candy store people do when they 
have a new clerk. They say that they let her eat all 
she wants to for the first few days and then she 
doesn’t want any more. It would be fun to give the 
family all they wanted.” 

“We really ought to do it before we set the Club 
to work packing all these goodies, but I don’t see 
how we can with those three boys. We never could 
fill them up so they’d stop eating.” 

“Nev-^r/” 

“Not Roger !” 

“We’ll just have to give them a lecture on self- 
control and set them to work.” 

“It’s a glorious lot we’ve got. Where’s Mother? 
We must show them to her and Grandmother and 
Aunt Louise.” 

So there was an exhibit of “food products” that 
brought the Ethels many compliments. Shelf upon 
shelf of their private kitchen was filled with boxes 
and tins, and every day added to the quantity, for 
Mary came in occasionally to bring a wee fruit cake. 
Aunt Louise sent over cookies, and Mrs. Emerson 
added a box of professional candy to the pile. 

“They tell me at the candy store that very 
hard candy doesn’t last well,” she said. “It grows 
moist.” 

“That’s why Miss Dawson gave me these receipts 
for softish candies like fudge. It’s well to remember 


230 


ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 


that at Christmas time when you’re selecting candies 
for presents.” 

“I don’t believe the Ethels ever will buy any 
candies again,” said Mrs. Morton. “They’ve be- 
come so expert in making them that they quite look 
down on the professionals.” 

“Did you see the paper this morning?” asked 
Mrs. Emerson. 

When the girls said that they had not, she pro- 
duced a clipping. 

“Grandfather thought that perhaps this might 
have escaped your notice, so he sent it over.” 

Ethel Brown took it and Ethel Blue read it over 
her shoulder. 

CARGO FOR CHRISTMAS SHIP GATHERING 
HERE FROM EVERY STATE 

Hundreds of cases containing every conceivable kind of 
gift for a child have been received at the Bush Terminal in 
Brooklyn, where the Christmas Ship Jasorij which will 
carry the gifts of American children to the orphans of the 
European War is being loaded. 

It became apparent that if the Jason were to get off 
within reasonable time, a tremendous force of sorters and 
packers would have to be employed. When the situation 
was presented over the telephone to Secretary of the Navy 
Daniels he secured authorization for Gen. Wood to assign 
sixty soldiers to help to get the cargo ready. These men 
appeared for duty yesterday afternoon. 

Secretary Daniels has assigned Lieut.-Commander Court- 
ney to command the Christmas Ship. 

“What a fine Santa Claus-y feeling Commander 
Courtney must have,” said Mrs. Morton. “He’s a 
friend of your father’s, Ethel Brown.” 


THE ETHELS COOK TO KEEP 231 

‘‘Think of being Santa Claus to all Europe I’’ 

“Our parcels won’t be very visible among several 
millions, will they?” 

“You have a wonderfully creditable collection for 
ten youngsters working so short a time.” 

“Mr. Watkins is keeping in touch with the ship 
so that we can make use of every day that she’s de- 
layed. Tom telephoned to Roger this afternoon 
that he had been over to the Bush Terminal and 
they were sure they wouldn’t start before the loth 
of November. 

“That gives us almost a week more, you see.” 

“Do you think we could go to New York to see 
the Jason sail?” asked Ethel Blue and both girls 
waited eagerly for the reply. 

“Aunt Louise and I were saying that the Club 
ought to go in a body.” 

“If only she doesn’t sail during school hours.” 

“Even then I think we might manage it for once,” 
smiled Mrs. Morton, and the Ethels rushed off to 
tell Roger and Helen the plan and to telephone it to 
Margaret and James. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE CHRISTMAS SHIP SAILS 

T he Rosemont and Glen Point members of the 
U. S. C. did not wait for the Watkinses to join 
them on Saturday before beginning to do up the 
parcels for the Santa Claus Ship. All the small 
bundles were wrapped and tied in Dorothy’s attic, 
but after Mrs. Smith had made a careful examina- 
tion of the attic stairs she came to the conclusion 
that the large packing cases into which they must be 
put for transportation to the Bush Terminal in 
Brooklyn could not be taken down without damage 
to the walls. It was therefore decided that when 
the bundles were ready they were to be brought 
downstairs and there packed into several large cases 
which had been donated for the purpose by the local 
dry goods dealer and the shoe store man. 

Each of these huge boxes James declared to be 
probably as large as the mysterious house which 
Roger was going to propose for some sort of club 
w^ork in the spring. They had been delivered early 
in the week and were estalDlished on the porch at the 
back of the Smith cottage awaiting the contents that 
were to bring pleasure to hundreds of expectant chil- 
dren. 

Doctor Hancock was so busy that he could not 
bring Margaret’s and James’s collection to Rose- 
mont when it was wanted there, so Mrs. Emerson 
went to Glen Point in her car and brought it back 
232 


THE CHRISTMAS SHIP SAILS 233 

filled high with the result of James’s pasting. It 
was necessary to have all his boxes to pack the can- 
dies and cookies and small gifts in. 

Every afternoon a busy throng gathered in the 
attic, wrapping and tying and labelling the work that 
kept them all so busy for the previous two months. 

“We must do up every package just as carefully 
as if we were going to put it on our own Christmas 
tree,” Helen decided. “I think half the fun of 
Christmas is untying the bundles and having the 
room all heaped up with tissue paper and bright 
ribbons.” 

The Club had laid in a goodly store of tissue paper 
of a great variety of colors, buying it at wholesale 
and thus obtaining a discount over the retail price. 
The question of what to tie with was a subject of 
discussion. 

“We certainly can’t afford ribbon,” Ethel Brown 
declared. “Even the narrowest kind is too expen- 
sive when we have to have hundreds of yards of it.” 

“We ought to have thought about it before,” said 
Helen looking rather worried, as this necessity 
should have been foreseen by the president. “I’ll 
go right over to town and get something now,” she 
added, putting on her hat. “Have any of you girls 
any ideas on the subject?” 

“I have,” replied Dorothy. “You know that 
bright colored binding that dressmakers use on 
seams? It’s sometimes silk and sometimes silk 
and — ” 

“Cotton? Ha!” 

“Silk and cotton; yes, ma’am. It comes in all 
colors and it’s just the right width and it costs a 
good deal less than real ribbon.” 


234 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

‘T suppose we can get the rolls by wholesale in 
assorted colors, can’t we?” 

“I should suppose so.” 

“I have an idea, too,” offered Margaret who had 
come over on the trolley after school was over. 
“There’s a tinsel cord, silver and gilt, that doesn’t 
cost much and it looks bright and pretty. It would 
be just the thing.” 

“I’ve seen that. It does look pretty. For home 
packages you can stick a sprig of holly or a poin- 
settia in the knot and it makes it C-H-A-R-M-I-N-G,” 
spelled Ethel Blue, giving herself a whirl in her ex- 
citement. 

“But we can’t use stick-ups on our Christmas Ship 
parcels, you know.” 

“That’s so, but the tinsel string just by itself is 
quite pretty enough.” 

“I’ll bring back bushels,” said Helen. “You have 
enough to go on with for a while.” 

“One year when Mother and I were caught at the 
last minute on Christmas Eve without any ribbon,” 
said Dorothy, “ — it was after the shops had closed, 
I remember, we found several bundles that we had 
overlooked — we tied them with ordinary red and 
green string twisted together. It looked holly- 
lied.” 

“That would be easy to do,” said Roger. “See, 
put two balls of twine, one red and one green in a 
box and punch a hole in the top and let the two 
colors come out of the hole. Then use them just as 
if they were one cord. See?” 

“As he talked he manufactured a twine box, pop- 
ping into it not only the red and green balls about 
which he had been talking, but, on the other side of 


THE CHRISTMAS SHIP SAILS 235 

a slip of pasteboard which he put in for a partition, 
a ball of pink and a ball of blue. 

“Watch Roger developing another color scheme,” 
cried Ethel Blue. “I’m going to follow that out,” 
and she proceeded to make up a collection of parcels 
wrapped in pink tissue paper tied with blue string, 
in blue paper tied with pink cord and in white tied 
with Roger’s combination. 

“There’s one family fitted out with a lot of pres- 
ents all naturally belonging together,” she cried. 

“I rather like that notion myself,” announced 
James gravely, adjusting his lame leg to a more com- 
fortable position. “Please hand me that brown and 
yellow tissue, somebody. I’m going to make a lot of 
bundles along the color lines that my auburn haired 
sister uses in her dress.” 

“Observant little Jimmy,” commented Margaret. 

“Here you perceive, ladies, that I am doing up the 
bundles with brown and yellow and burnt orange and 
tango, and lemon color, and I’m tying them with a 
contrast — brown with orange and buttercup yellow 
with brown and lemon yellow with white and so on. 
Good looking, eh?” he finished, pointing with pride 
to his group of attractive parcels. 

“I’m going to do a bunch with a mixture of all 
sorts,” announced Roger. “Here’s a green tied with 
red and a white tied with green and a pink tied with 
white and a brown tied with tango, and violet tied 
with blue, iind so zveiter, as our Fraulein says when 
she means ‘and so forth’ and can’t remember her 
English fast enough.” 

“Poor Fraulein! It will be a hard Christmas for 
her.” 

“She brought in the last of her work and Mrs. 


236 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

Hindenburg’s yesterday. Such a mound of knit- 
ting!” 

“Has any one been to the Old Ladies’ Home to 
gather up what they have there?” asked James. 

“Roger went early this morning before school. 
Perhaps those old ladies haven’t been busy! See 
that pile?” 

“All theirs? Good work,” and James set about 
tying up the soft and comfortable knitted mufflers 
and wristlets and socks, first in tissue paper with a 
ribbon or a bright cord and then with a stouter wrap- 
per of ordinary paper. He marked on each pack- 
age what was in it. 

“If the people who are doing the sorting and re- 
packing at the Bush Terminal can know what is in 
each bundle it is going to help them a lot,” remarked 
methodical James. 

The packing of the candies and cookies took es- 
pecial care, for they had to be wrapped in paraffin 
paper and tightly wedged in the fancy boxes await- 
ing them before they could be wrapped with their 
gay outside coverings. 

“We want them to arrive with some shape still 
left to them and not merely a boxful of crumbs,” 
said Ethel Brown earnestly. 

Except for the collections of varied presents which 
they had made for the sake of the color schemes of 
their wrappings — an arrangement with which Helen 
was much pleased when she came back laden with 
ribbons and cord — the gifts were packed according 
to their kind. Every article of clothing was 
wrapped separately and the bundles were labelled, 
each with the name of the article within, and then 
put into one large box. It was only by great squeez- 


THE CHRISTMAS SHIP SAILS 237 

ing that the knitted articles were persuaded to go 
into the same case. 

In another box were the candies and cookies and 
cakes and breads. The grocer from whom they had 
bought the materials for their cooking had con- 
tributed a dozen tins of peaches. 

In still another case went the seemingly innumer- 
able small parcels that held toys or little gifts. 
Here were the metal pieces and the leather coin 
purses and the stuffed animals and the dolls. Doc- 
tor Hancock had sent over a box of raisins and Mrs. 
Watkins had sent out from town a box of figs and a 
few of these goodies with two or three pieces of 
candy, went into every article that could be made to 
serve as a container. Of this sort were the innumer- 
able fancy bags made of silk bits and of cretonne and 
of scraps of velvet which the girls had put together 
when other work flagged. Many of the pretty little 
baskets held a pleasant amount of sweeties, and the 
tiny leather travelling bags and the larger wrist bags 
of tooled leather were lined with a piece of paraffin 
paper enclosing something for sweet-toothed Euro- 
pean children. 

James’s boxes, with those made by the others, held 
out wonderfully. 

“You certainly put in a good week’s work with the 
paste pot,” declared Roger admiringly as he filled 
the last one with sugar cookies and tied it with green 
and red twine to harmonize with its covering of holly 
paper. 

The Watkinses had sent out their offerings, for 
they wanted what they had at home to be packed 
with the other Club articles, even though they lived 
nearer than the rest to the place from which the ship 


238 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

was going to steam. When this additional collec- 
tion was prepared and packed it was found that there 
were three big packing cases. 

“Good for the U. S. C. !” cried the boys as the 
last nail went Into the last cover. 

James, who printed well, painted the address 
neatly on the tops and sides, and they all watched 
with vivid Interest the drayman who hauled them 
away, generously contributing his services to the 
Christmas cause. 

After all their hurry It seemed something of a 
hardship when they were informed that the sailing 
of the ship was delayed for several days because the 
force of packers, large as It was, could not prepare 
all the parcels In time for the tenth of the month. 

“The paper says there are more than sixty car- 
loads of gifts,” read Ethel Blue to her Interested 
family, “and five or six million separate presents.” 

“No wonder they’re delayed !” 

Yet after all they were glad of the delay for the 
Jason finally sailed at noon of the fourteenth, and 
that was Saturday. The Hancocks went in to New 
York and over to Brooklyn in the Doctor’s car and 
Mrs. Emerson’s big touring car held all the Mortons 
and Dorothy and her mother, and Fraulein and her 
mother, though It was a tight squeeze. 

“The old woman who lived In a shoe must have 
been on her way to a Christmas Ship,” cried Grand- 
mother when Roger tossed Dicky In “on top of the 
heap of Ethels,” as he described It and took up his 
own station on the running board. 

The pier at the Bush Terminal In Brooklyn was 
already well crowded with people and motors when 
the Rosemont party arrived. The Watkinses and 


THE CHRISTMAS SHIP SAILS 239 

the Hancocks were already there. Freight cars 
stood at one side, freight cars empty now of their 
loads of good cheer. Everybody was laughing and 
happy and In a Christmas mood, and the boy band 
from St. John’s Home in Brooklyn made merry 
music. 

Thanks to Mrs. Morton’s acquaintance with Lieu- 
tenant-Commander Courtney, who was In command 
of the ship, she and her flock had been invited to 
hear the speeches of farewell made In the main 
saloon by representatives of the city of New York. 

Roger led the way to the gang plank which 
stretched from the pier to the deck of the huge navy 
collier. 

“Old Jason looks grim enough In his gray war 
paint,” he commented. 

“But those great latticed arms of the six cranes 
look as if he were trying to play Christmas tree,” 
suggested Mrs. Emerson. 

The speeches were full of good will and Christ- 
mas cheer. Back on to the pier went the listeners 
and then amid the cheers of the throng on the dock 
and the whistles of near-by boats and the strains 
of “The Star Spangled Banner” from the boys’ band 
and the waving of handkerchiefs and hats, the huge 
gray steamer slipped out into the stream and started 
on her way across the ocean. 

It was when the U. S. C. was making Its way back 
to the automobiles that a piercing scream attracted 
their attention. 

“That sounds like Frauleln’s voice,” said Helen, 
looking about for the source of the cry. 

''Heine TochterF* exclaimed Mrs. HIndenburg at 
the same moment. 


240 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

And then they came upon Fraulein, her arms about 
the neck of a bearded man, who stroked her hair and 
cheek with one hand while with the other he clung to 
one of the crutches which gave him but an insecure 
support. 

^‘Lieher HeinrichF^ cried Mrs. Hindenburg as she 
caught sight of the tableau. 

“It’s — yes, I believe it’s Mr. Schuler! Look, 
Helen, do you think it is?” whispered Roger. 

“It must be,” returned Helen. “It’s hard to tell 
with that beard, but I’m almost sure it is.” 

“His leg! Oh, Helen, his leg is gone !” lamented 
Ethel Blue. 

The Rosemont party’s certainty was relieved by 
Mrs. Hindenburg who turned to them, beaming. 

“It iss Mr. Schuler; it iss Heinrich,” she ex- 
plained. “He has lost his leg. What matter? 
He is here and the Tochter is happy!” 

Happy indeed was Fraulein when she turned her 
tear-stained face toward the others. 

“He has come,” she said simply, while the rest 
crowded around and shook hands. 

It seemed that he had obtained leave to return to 
America because he had lost his leg and could fight 
no more. Yes, he said. Mademoiselle Millerand 
had nursed him when his leg was taken off. 

The spectators of the moving pictures looked at 
each other and nodded. 

Mademoiselle had sent a message to the Secretary 
of the United Service Club, he went on. It was — he 
took a slip of paper from his pocket book. 

“Message received. Answered in person.” 

The Club members laughed at this whose whole 


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was well spent” 



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THE CHRISTMAS SHIP SAILS 241 


meaning it was clear that Mr. Schuler did not ap- 
preciate. 

He had arrived, it seemed, only two hours before, 
on an Italian boat, and had heard on the way up 
from Quarantine of the sailing of the Christmas 
Ship and so had crossed to wave a farewell before 
going out to Rosemont. 

“And here I have found my best fortune,” he said 
over and over again, his eyes resting fondly on 
Fraulein’s face. 


32 


CHAPTER XXII 

A WEDDING AND A SURPRISE 

I T was a simple wedding that the U. S. C. went to 
in a body a few days after the arrival of the con- 
valescent German soldier. Mr. Wheeler, the prin- 
cipal of the high school, acted as best man, and Miss 
Dawson, the domestic science teacher, was maid of 
honor, but Fraulein also gathered about her in the 
cottage sitting-room where the ceremony took place 
a group of the young girls who had been kindest to 
her when she was in trouble. 

“I want you and the Ethels and Dorothy,” she said 
to Helen; “and if your friends, Della and Margaret, 
would come with you it would give me greatest pleas- 
ure.” 

So the girls, all dressed in white, and wearing the 
forget-me-not pins that Grandfather Emerson in- 
sisted on giving them for the occasion, clustered 
around the young teacher, and the three boys, a for- 
get-me-not in each scarfpin, held the ribbons that 
pressed gently back the cordial friends who were 
happy in Fraulein’s happiness. 

It was the Club that decorated the house with 
brown sedges and stalks of upstanding tawny corn 
and vines of bittersweet. And it was the Club that 
sang a soft German marriage song as the bride and 
groom drove off toward the setting sun in Grand- 
mother Emerson’s car. 

Life seemed rather flat to the members of the U. 

242 


A WEDDING AND A SURPRISE 243 

S. C. after the wedding. For the last two months 
they had been so busy that every hour had been filled 
with work and play-work, and now that there was 
nothing especial scheduled for every waking moment 
it seemed as if they had nothing at all to do. 

“We’ll have to ask Roger about his house,” 
laughed James who came over with Margaret one 
afternoon and confessed to the same feeling. 

“Not yet,” answered Helen. 

“Helen is full of ideas up to her very eyebrows, I 
believe,” said Ethel Blue. “She’s just giving us a 
holiday.” 

“Mother said we needed one,” assented Helen. 
“After we’ve had a few days’ rest we can start on 
something else. There’s no need to call on Roger 
yet awhile.” 

“Why not? My idea is a perfectly good one,” in- 
sisted Roger, strolling in. 

Just at this minute Mary entered with a note for 
“The Secretary of the United Service Club.” 

“For you, Ethel Blue,” said Roger, handing it to 
his cousin. 

Ethel Blue slipped a cutter under the edge while 
the others waited expectantly, for the address in- 
dicated that the contents was of interest to all of 
them. 

“What does this mean?” she cried as she read. 
“What is it? Is it true?” 

She was so excited that they all crowded around 
her to see what had taken away her power of ex- 
planation. 

The letter was signed “Justine Millerand.” 

“Mademoiselle,” cried all who could see the signa- 
ture. 


244 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“She says,” read Ethel Blue, finding her strength 
again, ‘Here is the Belgian baby you asked for. 
She is two years old and her name is “Elisabeth,” 
after the Queen of Belgium I’ ” 

“Is that all?” 

“That’s all.” 

“But she says, *Here is the Belgian baby.’ 
Where is the Belgian baby?” 

They turned toward Mary who had remained in 
the room. 

“There’s a Red Cross nurse in the reception 
room,” she explained. “She said she’d rather you 
read the letter first.” 

They made a rush for the door. Roger reached 
it first and ushered the nurse into the living room. 
She was dressed in her grey uniform and sheltered 
under her cape the thinnest, wannest mite of hu- 
manity that ever the Club had seen outside of the 
streets of a city slum. 

“Mademoiselle Millerand said you had asked for 
a Belgian baby,” she began, but she was interrupted 
by a cry from the entire throng. 

“We did; we did,” they exclaimed so earnestly 
that any doubts she may have felt about the cordiality 
of their reception of her nursling were banished at 
once. 

“Your mother?” she asked. 

“I don’t believe Mother really expected it to come, 
any more than we did,” replied Helen frankly, “but 
she will love it just as we will, and we’ll take the very 
best of care of her.” 

She offered her finger to Elisabeth, who clutched it 
and gazed solemnly at her out of her sunken blue 
eyes. 


A WEDDING AND A SURPRISE 245 

Ethel Blue in the back of the group gave a sob. 

“She’ll pick up soon when she has good food every 
day,” the nurse reassured them, and then she told 
them of her own experiences. 

She had been, it seemed, in the same hospital with 
Mademoiselle in Belgium. Out on the field one day 
a bit of shrapnel had wounded her foot so that she 
was forced to come home. Mademoiselle had asked 
her to bring over this mite “to the kindest young peo- 
ple in the world,” and here she was. 

The baby’s father and mother were both dead, she 
went on. That she knew. 

“Are you sure her name is Elisabeth?” asked Dor- 
othy. 

“That’s what she calls herself.” 

By this time Elisabeth had made friends with 
every one of them and was sitting comfortably on 
one of Roger’s knees while Dicky occupied the other 
and made acceptable gestures toward her. 

“She’ll be happy here,” said the nurse, and rose to 
explain her visit to Mrs. Morton. 

Like the girls, Mrs. Morton had not expected that 
Mademoiselle would respond to their request for a 
Belgian baby and she was somewhat taken back by 
its appearance. 

“I can see that you did not look for her,” the nurse 
suggested, “but when you are on the spot and are 
seeing such hideous distress every day and a chance 
opens to relieve just one little child, it is more than 
you can resist. I know that is why Mademoiselle 
Millerand sent her.” 

“I quite understand,” responded Mrs. Morton 
cordially. “Elisabeth shall have a happy home in 
Rosemont.” 


246 ETHEL AND THE CHRISTMAS SHIP 

“And a baker’s dozen of fathers and mothers to 
make up for her own,” said James. 

“And we’re grateful to you for bringing her,” 
said Ethel Blue, offering her hand. 

It was after the nurse had had a cup of tea and 
had returned to New York that Helen called the 
Club to order formally. 

“The Club has got its work cut out for it for a 
long time to come,” she said. “I don’t think we 
have any right to bring this baby over to America 
and then send it to an orphanage, though that would 
be the easiest way to do.” 

“We’ll never do that,” said Margaret firmly. 

“If we are going to take care of it it means that 
we’ll have to earn money for it and give it our per- 
sonal care. Now, all in favor of accepting Elisa- 
beth’ as our Club baby, say ‘Aye.’ ” 

There was a hearty assent. 

“There are no contrary-minded,” declared the 
president. “From now on she belongs to us.” 

“And here’s my forget-me-not pin to prove it,” 
said Ethel Blue, fastening it on the baby’s dress. 

“Just what we’ll have to do about her we must 
think out carefully and talk over with our mothers,” 
went on Helen. “But this minute we can accept our 
new club member and cry all together, ‘Three cheers 
for Elisabeth of Belgium.’ ” 

And at the shout that followed, Elisabeth of Bel- 
gium gave her first faint smile. 


THE END 


The Ethel Morton Books 

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The Campfires of the Wolf Patrol 

Their first camping experience affords the scouts splendid opportunities to use 
their recently acquired knowledge m a practical way. Elmer Chenoweth, a lad 
from the northwest woods, astonishes everyone by his familiarity with camp 
life. A clean, wholesome story every boy should read. 

Woodcraft; or, How a Patrol Leader Made Good 

This tale presents many stirring situations in which the boys are called upon to 
exercise ingenuity and unselfishness. A story filled with healthful,excitement. 

Pathfinder; or. The Missing Tenderfoot 

Some mysteries are cleared up in a most unexpected way, greatly to the credit 
of our young friends. A variety of incidents follow fast, one after the other. 

Fast Nine; or, a Challenge from Fairfield 

They show the same team-work here as when in camp. The description of the 
final game with the team of a rival town, and the outcome thereof, form a stirring 
narrative. One of the best baseball stories of recent years. 

Great Hike; or. The Pride of The Khaki Troop 

After weeks of preparation the scouts start out on their greatest undertaking. 
Their march takes them far frorn home, and the good-natured rivalry of the 
different patrols furnishes many interesting and amusing situations. 

Endurance Test; or. How Clear Grit Won the Day 

Few stories “get” us more than illustrations of pluck in the face of apparent 
failure. Our heroes show the stuff they are made of and surprise their most ardent 
admirers. One of the best stories Captain Douglas has written. 

Under Canvas; or. The Hunt for the Cartaret Ghost 

It was hard to disbelieve the evidence of their eyes but the boys by the 
exercise of common-sense solved a mystery which had long puzzled older heads. 

Storm-bound; or, a Vacation Among the Snow Drifts 

The boys start out on the wrong track, but their scout training comes to the 
rescue and their experience proves beneficial to all concerned. 


Boy Scout Nature Lore to be Found in The Hickory Ridge Boy 
Scout Series, all illustrated: — 

Wild Animals of the United States — Tracking — Trees and Wild Flowers of the 
United States — Reptiles of the United States — Fishes of the United States — 
Insects of the United States and Birds of the United States. 


Cloth Binding Cover Illustrations in Four Colors 40c. Per Volume 


THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY 

147 FOURTH AVENUE (near 14th St.) NEW YORK 


The Campfire and Trail Series 


1. In Camp on the Big Sunflower. 

2. The Rivals of the Trail. 

3. The Strange Cabin on Catamount Island. 

4. Lost in the Great Dismal Swamp. 

5. With Trapper Jim in the North Woods. 

6. Caught in a Forest Fire. 

7. Chums of the Campfire. 

8. Afloat on the Flood. 

By LAWRENCE J. LESLIE. 

A series of wholesome stories for boys told 
in an interesting way and appealing to their 
love of the open. 


Each, l%mo. Cloth, ^ cents per •oolvMie 






THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY 

147 FOURTH AVENUE NEW YORK 









